


Derek Hale's Baby

by KaliopeShipsIt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Bottom Derek Hale, Derek doesn't know who the father is, Derek is a carrier, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Minor reference to Derek being able to nurse but not graphically described, Mpreg, One Night Stands, Pregnant Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Doesn't Know About Werewolves, Top Stiles Stilinski, Two Potential Daddies, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliopeShipsIt/pseuds/KaliopeShipsIt
Summary: On the last night of his vacation in Paris, Derek has a one-night stand with a handsome stranger. When he boards his plane back home twelve hours later, Derek's cute seat neighbor Stiles almost lets a backpack fall on Derek's head and Derek has no choice but fall for him.Ten weeks later, Derek has never been this happy, he's never been this in love - and he's never been this pregnant and with no clue who the baby daddy is.Also, he's secretly a werewolf.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 149
Kudos: 541





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my Lovelies!
> 
> Welcome to another one of my brainchildren :).
> 
>   
> I've been working on and off on this one since 2018 and it's finally ready to see the light of day :). 
> 
>   
> Updates will be weekly and the fic is fully written (just needs to be proofread), so I'm not serving you another WIP situation here, I promise :).
> 
> Now, before you dive into this fic: as you can tell by the title (which totally isn't a riff-off of "Bridget Jones' Baby" or anything, haha), one of the key parts of this fic is that Derek is pregnant and the baby's father could be either Stiles OR his one-night stand, which means that the outcome is 50/50 :). 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this story as much I enjoyed writing it :).

_January 6 th, 2021_

The guy’s name is Patrice.

His eyes are dark and beautiful, framed by long lashes that flutter as he looks up from between Derek’s thighs.

His voice is a smooth baritone, a little gravelly from a night spent in a crowded bar and his English practically non-existent, the few words he does know delivered in a thick French accent that Derek can barely parse out.

Then again, Derek isn’t entirely interested in conversation right now, not while the muscles in his belly are clenching, his toes are curling, and his eyes are rolling into the back of his head with sheer pleasure.

“Come on!” he urges, letting out a high keen when Patrice curls his fingers just so, touching him just where he needs it the most.

He wants more of it.

So much more.

“Please!” he gasps and Patrice smirks, bending down to nip at the sensitive inside of Derek’s thigh as he withdraws his fingers from Derek’s hole.

The sound of frantic rustling fills the air, followed by a muffled curse in French, and Derek lets out an impatient growl, the need to feel his lover getting almost unbearable after so much teasing.

The first real thrust feels like magic, hitting that sweet spot just right and making Derek see stars.

When Derek comes, it’s with a high-pitched whine, his eyes squeezing shut and his stomach muscles trembling as he lets out a breathless laugh.

Patrice thrusts into him one more time and groans loudly, his fingers digging into Derek’s hips as he comes.

Derek lets out a shuddery sigh when Patrice pulls out of him, watching him through sleep-heavy eyes as his one-night stand putters around the room to collect his discarded clothes. 

When Patrice is dressed, he walks up to the bed once more, bending down to place a gentle kiss on Derek’s cheek.

“Bonne nuit,” he says, giving him one last smile before he exits Derek’s hotel room, the door closing softly behind him.

When Derek falls asleep, his lips are still stretched into a contented smile.

==============

_January 7 th, 2021_

Derek _hates_ flying.

His human half is, of course, perfectly aware that it’s a necessary evil if one wants to see the world.

However, his wolf is firmly of the opinion that werewolves were meant to frolic through woods with the solid ground beneath their paws and _definitely_ shouldn’t be soaring through the sky like a bird. 

He’s found ways to deal with the wolf’s agitation over the years, including a set of werewolf-proof earplugs and a wolfsbane mixture to soothe his nerves if there are too many turbulences, but he’s nevertheless expecting to have a miserable time when he sits down into his assigned seat. 

A moment later, his nose is assaulted with a most distracting and also incredibly delicious scent and Derek jerks and whips around, only to almost get smacked in the face by a flailing hand.

“Shit!” the guy attached to the hand hisses, followed by a startled yelp when the backpack he’d been trying to cram into the overhead bin comes dangerously close to tumbling out.

Derek jumps up to assist, partly because his momma raised him to be a helpful wolf and partly because he isn’t too keen on temporary concussions.

"Thanks, dude!” the guy exclaims, his scent changing from exasperation to relief to utter mortification when Derek turns towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh … I’ve got the window seat,” the guy says awkwardly, his pale cheeks rapidly reddening and making his moles stand out in a way that Derek finds utterly adorable.

The man mutters to himself as he plops down into his seat, only to immediately fidget as he tries to adjust his long limbs into a halfway comfortable position.

Derek makes a point of sitting down as gracefully as possible, partly because having manners doesn’t mean he can’t be a little shit when the situation calls for it and partly because...

_He smells good! Must impress!_

As usual, Derek’s wolf has firm opinions on the subject, the current subject being that Derek is about to spend a twelve-hour flight next to a clumsy and fidgety guy who’s also tragically the single-hottest person he’s ever met.

His mind made up, he turns towards him, smiles, and holds out his hand.

“Hey. I’m Derek.”

By the time the plane’s taken off, he’s learned that the cute guy’s name is Stiles, that he lives in Los Angeles as well, and that he grew up in a small northern California town that’s coincidentally only an hour and a half’s drive away from Derek’s hometown of Beacon Hills.

By the time the flight attendants offer the first refreshments, Derek has learned that Stiles has recently made detective, that he loves _Star Wars_ , and that he really loves Reeses’ peanut butter cups. 

By the time they’re over Greenland, Derek’s learned that a casual touch of Stiles’ hand on his arm makes him tingle all the way down to his toes.

When they enter Canadian airspace, Derek learns that Stiles tastes as good as he smells.

Just south of the Canadian-US border, Derek expands his taste exploration to equally southern areas.

By the time the plane touches down at LAX, Derek has become an official member of the mile-high club.

When he goes to bed a couple of hours later, a goodnight text lights up his phone and Derek doesn’t stop smiling until he falls asleep. 

==========

Things between Derek and Stiles move rather quickly.

A little too quickly, maybe, but Derek can’t quite bring himself to fret about it, given that he’s never been in love like this.

Fifteen hours after touching down at LAX, Stiles takes Derek on their first date and recreates the iconic spaghetti scene from _Lady and the Tramp,_ because Derek mentioned that it was his favorite as a kid and Stiles took his throwaway comment and ran with it.

It’s cheesy and ridiculous and probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for Derek, so he doesn’t say no when Stiles asks him to come home with him afterwards.

“I’m not going to put out again. Just so you know. I require all the romance and some more fine wining and dining before you’re getting to see all of this pale glory again,” Stiles declares after they’ve shut the door behind them, standing in the small hallway and staring at each other with heated eyes.

“Absolutely,” Derek agrees, surging forward to capture Stiles’ lips in a heated kiss that is eagerly returned.

Stiles does, indeed, end up putting out again, and by the time Derek’s rocking himself to an earth-shattering orgasm on his lap, the only protestations coming from Stiles are praises of deities and Derek’s name.

They schedule their second date for the very next day and this time Derek insists that _he_ won’t put out again, figuring he semi-kept his promise later that night when Stiles eats him out and Derek literally sees stars.

On their third date in as many days, they don’t even make it to the restaurant.

Instead, they talk, laugh, cuddle, and fuck, and Derek’s pretty sure it’s the best date he’s ever had.

A month goes by quickly and Derek soon feels like he’s known Stiles forever, despite the fact that he’s still discovering new and exciting things about his lover each day. 

Well.

Not his lover.

His _boyfriend_.

Because that’s what they are, Facebook official and everything.

Not that Derek actually _has_ a Facebook, but Stiles assures him that’s not a deal breaker for him at all.

Luckily for Derek, the fact that he has to miss out on their first Valentine’s Day together is also not a deal breaker.

[Derek]: _Are you sure you don’t mind? I’m sorry that my parents are romantic losers who insisted on getting married on February 14 th and want to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary in style. _

[Stiles]: _Stop worrying, it’s fine_ _J_ _. I’m up to my ears in a new case, anyway, wouldn’t have been able to get time off if I’d begged on my knees._

[Derek]: _Begged on your knees? Must I be jealous?_

[Stiles]: _Ha! You clearly haven’t met my boss! Images in my head, Derek! Images!_

[Stiles]: _Wait … so your parents have been married for 30 years? I thought your oldest sister was in her mid-thirties._

[Stiles]: _Was it the scandal of the town? That would be another thing we have in common, by the way. Back home, some of the old ladies still cross themselves when they see me walking down the street._

[Stiles]: _Turns out, in a small-town like mine, the shotgun wedding of the mayor’s four-months pregnant daughter is, apparently, a scandal for the history books._

[Derek]: _Yep. Also, Laura’s forever bitter that I managed to get myself conceived **in** wedlock ;)_

[Derek]: _I mean, barely, but it still counts._

[Derek]: _My uncle Peter called her his favorite little bastard behind my parents’ backs for years, but then she found out that it was an insult and she cried so much that Mom made him sleep in the shed for a month_

[Stiles]: _A sensible solution_

[Stiles]: _I know this is a little early and all … but I cannot wait to meet your family one day_ _J_

Derek doesn’t stop smiling for half an hour after he reads Stiles’ last text and Laura and Cora tease him until he ends up putting the phone away with flaming red ears.

He keeps his texting to a minimum afterwards, though, because Laura recently moved back into her old childhood bedroom after a very messy break-up left her sans boyfriend and without a place to live.

He knows she’s happy for him, but he also doesn’t want to rub it in her face, so he keeps his phone on mute and only checks it when he’s sure that no one is around.

When he finally gets back to Los Angeles and sees his boyfriend again, he decides to reward his restraint with the most intense hallway make-out session in the history of hallways.

“I’d say you should go away more often, but then you’d be away more often and that’s really not what I want at all,” Stiles muses a while later, looking down at Derek with blown pupils as he cards his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“Uhum,” Derek agrees around his dick, sucking at the tip before swallowing him back down and relishing the wanton sound that Stiles makes in return.

The month goes by almost in a flash and Derek slowly starts to realize that he’s … serious about this.

He’s so serious about Stiles, in fact, that he’s actually considering breaking his mom’s one-year rule – dating humans is fine, but no telling them about the supernatural until the first anniversary.

In truth, Derek’s never found anyone he trusted enough to share the secret with in the first place, but now he finds it almost impossible to keep it to himself.

In fact, the thought of losing Stiles after a year of soft kisses, cuddling, deep conversations, belly laughter, and generally being the happiest he’s ever been is almost unbearable to him.

He’s probably being dramatic, but he actually starts tearing up when he imagines Stiles looking at his fangs and claws and walking out in disgust or fear, so he’d rather get the revelation over with sooner rather than later.

The thought of losing Stiles is already painful now – Derek doesn’t even want to imagine what it might feel like after getting to be this happy for an entire year.

Also, he’s feeling increasingly guilty about keeping secrets from Stiles, who’s so open with him about his feelings, his past, and his hopes and dreams for the future.

Derek would love to share this part of him, too, would love to be able to scent Stiles to his heart’s content and no longer have to squeeze his eyes shut in bed when the feeling of Stiles’ cock inside him gets too intense to hold the partial shift back anymore.

Derek wants to do all of these things, but he can’t, and the more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself getting worked up about it.

One day, Derek starts thinking about keeping secrets from Stiles while he’s at work and ends up in such a state of panic that he has to hide in the bathroom for twenty minutes because it takes him that long to get the shift back under control.

The panic doesn’t go away for the rest of the day, either, his gut and chest tight and achy in a rather uncomfortable way.

It’s … not like him.

It’s a little alarming, truth be told.

Derek doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on it though, because Stiles somehow manages to be the source of his turmoil and the best distraction from all his worries.

He continues to take Derek out on ridiculously romantic dates, cuddles him when Derek falls asleep during movie nights, and ends up spending so much time at Derek’s place that his apartment is starting to smell like their _den_ , which his inner wolf is blissfully ecstatic about.

Also, Stiles _always_ knows how to kiss Derek just right, reading his desires in his body language like he’s Stiles’ favorite book.

He’s … perfect, actually.

“How did I get so lucky?” Stiles muses one night, just before he falls asleep in Derek’s arms.

Derek doesn’t have an answer.

He hasn’t quite figured it out himself.

=================

They’ve been dating for about ten weeks when Stiles surprises Derek with a trip to Kings Canyon, arguing that they’re more than overdue for a little romantic vacation.

Derek’s feeling like a giggly teenager as he waits for Stiles’ jeep to pull up in front of his apartment complex, his wolf almost purring in delight at the thought of being all alone with Stiles in the woods.

The cabin is about four and a half hours away and it’s about three hours and fifty minutes into the drive that Derek first starts feeling … weird.

Stiles carefully drives the jeep up the serpentine road that leads to the cabin, but halfway up the road Derek’s belly begins to feel unusually tender, the strange sensation getting a little worse each time Stiles turns another sharp corner.

Being a born wolf, it takes Derek quite a while to realize that he’s suffering from an unprecedented bout of motion sickness, and by the time he figures it out he’s horrified to find that he’s dangerously close to losing his breakfast.

By some miracle he manages to keep his discomfort from Stiles, and he breathes a huge sigh of relief when they’ve finally reached the registration office, taking in lungful after lungful of fresh mountain air that thankfully make the nausea go away.

Derek feels decidedly less thankful seven hours later, when Stiles’ cock nudges against the back of his throat, triggers his gag reflex, and makes the nausea come back with so much force that he barely makes it to the bathroom before puking his guts out.

For a moment, Derek seriously entertains the idea of wolfsbane poisoning, since he can’t think of anything else that would affect a robust werewolf stomach like this.

There’s no black bile, however, and Derek forces himself to relax, figuring it was just his gag reflex after all.

Sure, his gag reflex has never bothered him before, but he’s heard that changes in altitude can do crazy things to a person.

Everything’s fine.

Everything’s completely fine.

When he lifts his head from the toilet bowl, Stiles is hovering in the door, looking a little bit grossed out and a lot concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, watching him carefully as Derek gets up to rinse out his mouth.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Derek assures him, sinking into Stiles’ embrace when his boyfriend steps up behind him and wraps his arms around him to give him the gentlest of belly rubs.

“Did you eat something bad?” Stiles asks, his eyes filled with worry as he looks at Derek in the mirror.

Derek almost misses the question, too mesmerized by the soft ministrations of Stiles’ pale, large hands against his tanned stomach.

In the past, Derek’s never quite felt comfortable with romantic partners touching his stomach, a part of him – the wolf – always urging him to protect his vulnerable middle.

He’s never quite understood why, given that he’s a predator and he’s only ever dated humans, but he’s never questioned it either, figuring that his wolf must know what it’s doing.

The wolf loves Stiles, though.

More than loves him, actually.

The wolf _trusts_ Stiles; trusts him in a way that Derek’s only ever trusted his mother and Alpha.

Stiles is not his Alpha, obviously, but even though Derek has deliberately stopped himself from thinking the m-word for weeks now, it’s getting harder and harder to deny the mate potential between them.

“Was it that gas station burrito?” Stiles asks and Derek lets out an affirmative grunt, his eyes squeezed shut so Stiles won’t see how golden they undoubtedly are.

Stiles’ belly rubbing skills are magic, obviously, and when they get back to the bed Derek soon falls asleep, certain he’ll feel better in the morning.

Also, he managed _not_ to throw up on Stiles’ penis, so he figures that the romance might yet be saved.

Unfortunately, Derek’s belly has a different opinion altogether.

The nausea doesn’t go away.

Instead, it gets worse, easing up for only small stretches of time to lull him into a sense of false security before returning with a vengeance.

Stiles fusses over him and strokes his sweaty hair and by the time Derek returns from his third offering to the porcelain gods the next morning, Stiles is already looking up the nearest clinic on his phone.

“It’s the stomach flu, isn’t it?”

Derek blearily blinks up at his boyfriend.

“Nah. Just food poisoning,” he croaks, because as unlikely as it sounds, it’s still a better explanation than a flu.

Stiles sighs, kneeling down next to him.

“Are you really sure? I really think it wouldn’t hurt to go see a doctor.” 

“No!”

The answer punches out of him so instantaneously that Derek’s stomach lurches and he lets out a groan, making Stiles’ forehead scrunch up in a frown. 

“Derek,” Stiles admonishes, clucking his tongue in disapproval and looking at him unhappily.

“I’m not going to force you, but are you really sure?”

Derek nods determinedly, pressing both hands against his belly and begging it to cooperate.

“Yes. I’m sure. That burrito really smelled ghastly. You’re lucky you ended up getting that bag of Reeses’ after all. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine as soon as its out of my system.”

Actually, Derek’s been forcing up only bile since the third time he barely made it to the bathroom, but Stiles doesn’t need to know that.

Stiles sighs and manhandles Derek back to the bed, fluffing up the pillows and snuggling against him.

“Alright. We’re not doing anything but rest, fluids, and snuggles though, so don’t even think about pulling out those hiking trail maps again. I saw you eyeing them a while earlier and it’s not happening.”

“But you were looking forward to …”

“I was looking forward to spending three days with you. I don’t care about whether we spend those days hiking or lying in bed all day. I just want to be with you.”

“I guess you imagined three days in bed going a bit differently,” Derek mutters, grimacing when his belly starts rolling unpleasantly yet again.

Stiles winces sympathetically and starts rubbing Derek’s upset belly once more, pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead. 

“Yeah well, I learned a long time ago that not all bedroom fantasies live up to one’s expectations,” Stiles teases, his smile transforming into a worried frown when Derek groans quietly and pales even further.

“Fair warning though, if you’re still feeling this shitty on Sunday, we _are_ getting you to a doctor the moment we get back to LA,” Stiles says firmly and Derek nods, grateful that Stiles is letting it go for the moment.

There are a lot of things that Derek needs right now, but what he definitely _doesn’t_ need is a human doctor examining his belly and calling _Oprah_ about his astonishing findings.

Having grown up as a born wolf, Derek’s figured out a long time ago that humans are willfully oblivious to the supernatural shenanigans going on around them.

Fairies, celebrating magical orgies in the forest? Ah well, hippies, what can you do?

Vampires, traipsing around college campuses? How _tragic_ that all these young people are turning up anemic, aren’t they eating enough avocado toasts?

A werewolf losing control during the full moon and going to town on the wildlife population? Damn those pesky mountain lions!

A shapeshifter, having a little bit of drunken fun at karaoke night? See, Gladys, I _told_ you Elvis was alive!

A dragon jealously protective of his golden hoard and coming up with ingenious ways to avoid paying taxes while scamming people out of their well-earned coins? Wow, fire and brimstone televangelism has never been fierier!

So yeah.

Derek knows that humans are surprisingly adapt at dismissing the supernatural even when it’s shoved right under their noses, but he doubts that even a first-year med student would miss the fact that Derek’s got some unexpected additions to his anatomy.

As a teenage werewolf, Derek used to struggle with the fact that he was a little different from the other men in the pack.

He’s come to accept it since, appreciate it even, but he’s still not all too fond of the term the older wolves use to describe wolves like him.

Breeder.

It’s rare, occurring maybe once in five generations, and Derek still remembers how shocked he was when his eyes turned purple on the full moon for the first time.

As a werewolf, Derek had already struggled with the fact that he was different from the other kids at school, but being told he was also a boy who could carry a baby _and_ realizing he liked boys just as much as girls all within the span of a couple of weeks?

Talk about emotional overkill to any young werewolf already struggling with the hormonal nightmare of puberty.

Also, there was that one time when Derek got the most mortifying sex talk in the history of sex talks.

These days, Derek’s fine with being a breeder, even though he still hates the term and prefers to use ‘carrier’ instead.

He’s more than just fine with it, actually.

It’s taken a couple of years, sure, but Derek’s old and mature enough now to realize that being different can also be a blessing.

Besides, his bonus equipment rarely ever affects him in his everyday life.

He’s no more baby-crazy than any other born wolf, his pecs might come with milk ducts but could still land him a _Men’s Health_ cover, and he doesn’t have a cycle, which Laura and Cora are forever salty about.

On the one hand, Derek definitely appreciates that he can get pregnant _without_ the prerequisite of his carrier-equipment painfully tearing itself to shreds on a monthly basis.

On the other hand, however, he’s got absolutely no reliable method to gage just how fertile he is at any given time of the month and he’s kind of afraid that the answer is _all the time_ , given his parents’ five hour long demonstration of how to use condoms and the power point presentation on all the ways a condom can be damaged.

As a werewolf, Derek can neither carry nor catch sexually transmitted diseases, but even though he longs to feel Stiles’ bare cock in him, he understands that it’s a risk he cannot take right now.

Having to explain a magical male werewolf pregnancy to a human who doesn’t even know about the supernatural?

 _Definitely_ not on Derek’s bucket list, so he breathes a sigh of relief when Stiles doesn’t bring the doctor’s visit up again. 

Instead of going to the doctor, Derek spends the rest of their romantic getaway shuffling back and forth between the bed, the couch, and the bathroom, nauseous instead of naked and feeling guilty as hell about their ruined vacation.

Stiles is wonderful throughout it all, however, firmly brushing away Derek’s apologies and taking care of him so gently and patiently that Derek’s wolf would purr with comfort if he wasn’t feeling so yucky.

Food poisoning – definitely not an experience he’s going to recommend.

Now that he thinks about it, he definitely remembers Cora complaining of an aching tummy when she was little, too, and he also remembers their mother’s soothing explanations that sometimes even little wolves aren’t immune to eating something they shouldn’t have.

Granted, Derek doesn’t remember gorging himself on cotton candy as of late, but maybe a foul-smelling gas station breakfast burrito can have the same effect.

Food poisoning then.

Unusual for a werewolf, yes, but definitely plausible.

He doesn’t dwell on how strangely tight his belly feels. 

After all, it’s just food poisoning.

===========

On Sunday evening, Derek’s feeling a little better but he’s still exhausted, so he sleeps for most of the drive back to Los Angeles. 

He only wakes up when Stiles gently cups his face and kisses his forehead, rousing him from his surprisingly restful slumber.

Derek blinks sleepily, looking up into Stiles’ warm, affectionate eyes and leaning into the gentle touch of the hands that have made him feel so safe and protected for the past two days.

“I love you.”

It’s out before Derek can stop himself, fully awake in an instant as he holds his breath for Stiles’ reaction.

Stiles doesn’t freak out though.

Instead, his smile is blinding, and his voice is soft when he leans down to kiss Derek again, his voice quiet but firm as he says it right back.

Stiles hesitates to come up to his apartment after, but Derek insists, needing to be close to him and wanting to make up for at least a little of the time they spent not having sex over the weekend.

Their lovemaking is slower and more tender than usual, and every gentle press of lips is like lightening on Derek’s oversensitive skin, drowning out the world around him and making his toes curl in pleasure.

At one point, Stiles bends down to lick and kiss his belly, nuzzling it and caressing it with soft fingers as if to reassure himself that the illness has truly passed.

Even though the sight of Stiles being affectionate with his vulnerable middle was relaxing to Derek before, the way he’s nuzzling and kissing it now makes something in him tense.

It feels amazing, yes, but it also makes him feel – cornered.

Indeed, his wolf seems to have done a complete 1-80 on the issue, sending out very mixed signals that alternate between utter contentment and paralyzing fear.

Derek doesn’t know what the wolf is suddenly so afraid of, but he can barely keep in his sigh of relief when Stiles moves on to nip at the inside of Derek’s thighs instead.

The next morning, Stiles has to get up at an ungodly hour, because he has to run back to his apartment to grab his bag and then rush out to the airport to catch his flight to a one-week law enforcement conference in New York City.

Derek smiles sleepily when Stiles kisses his naked shoulder and promises to be back soon, snuggling deeper into the covers and inhaling their combined scent as Stiles tiptoes out of the room.

About twenty minutes later, Derek lurches out of bed and makes a mad dash to the bathroom, barely making it in time as the nausea returns with a vengeance.

He holds on to the toilet for the first round, gagging and tears slipping from his eyes as bile spills out of his mouth.

When there’s nothing left to come back up, he leans back with a shaky breath, pressing both hands against his stomach and begging it to just fucking stop already.

He’s still pressing his hands against his belly as he bends forward to gag once more, his throat burning and his knees digging into the bathroom tiles as he dry-heaves for what feels like hours.

Without Stiles there to rub his back and comfort him, the nausea seems like it’s worse than ever and Derek’s legs and arms are literally shaking when he finally manages to push himself upright again.

He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when it just … clicks.

Exhaustion.

Nausea.

The strange sensation of being too big for his own skin.

His belly, feeling strangely tight and bloated under his touch.

 _How long have I felt like this_? Derek thinks frantically, the fog of his denial lifting and laying bare the terrifying reality he’s been ignoring for the better part of … days?

Weeks?

 _Months_?

“No!” Derek whispers softly, realizing that he’s felt like tea instead of his regular coffee in the mornings for more than a month now.

“No!” he repeats a bit louder, thinking back to how tired he was all throughout February and how he blamed it on the weather. 

“No!” he gets out through a shaky breath, looking down at where his pajama pants have left a red line on his unusually bloated stomach.

“No!” he begs the pale man in the mirror, his eyes widening in shock when he realizes that he’s … hearing it.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

It’s soft, barely noticeable under the galloping thrum of Derek’s panicked heartbeat, but now that he’s paying attention, he can’t stop hearing it.

It’s official

Derek is fucked.

==========

He calls in sick to work and drives back home to Beacon Hills, calling Deaton when he’s an hour away and asking him to meet him at the clinic.

Deaton hums in concern when Derek insists that his family mustn’t know, but he must hear something in Derek’s voice that stops him from pushing the issue, his tone calm but concern bleeding through as he tells Derek to drive carefully.

As the Hale pack emissary, Deaton’s first loyalty is to Talia and Derek realizes that there’s a good chance his mother will be meeting him at the clinic as well, eyes blazing and claws out and ready to go.

As the pack doctor, however, he’s also bound by patient confidentiality, and Derek prays that Deaton will respect his privacy, given that he’s pretty sure he’ll crack into pieces if he sees his family right now.

When his eyes first turned purple on the full moon when he was thirteen, Deaton was the one to tell his stunned family that he was a breeder, his true nature only revealed to others under the mother moon.

It was Deaton who examined him to make sure, Deaton who advised his parents on how to handle the explanation, and Deaton who went back to school to get certified in midwifery when Derek came out as bisexual at the age of 15.

Just in case.

A mile outside Beacon Hill’s city limits, Derek actually has to pull over to rest his head against the steering wheel and breathe, his fingers clenching around the leather, so he won’t give in and touch his belly.

A part of him doesn’t want the confirmation, urging him to turn back and forget about it all, go back to his carefree life with a steady job, a nice apartment, and an amazing boyfriend who definitely doesn’t have a reason to run away from him because he’s nothing but a _freak_.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

He lets out a choked sob and turns the car back on, because he _knows_ there’s no turning back and there’s nowhere far enough where he could run to escape … this.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Derek’s ears are ringing by the time he’s stumbling out of the car, rushing past the veterinarian who’s waiting for him outside the clinic with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

When Deaton follows him into the exam room, Derek’s already pacing, feeling caged in and wild just like the animals in the other room.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Deaton blinks.

Then, he nods toward the metal examination table.

“Alright. Let’s check to see if you’re right.”

 _I know I am_ , Derek thinks as he pushes himself up on the table, feeling ten times heavier than he is.

 _Heavier_.

Ha.

Truly a harbinger of things to come.

 _You’re hilarious_ , Derek thinks furiously, pressing his fists against his suddenly leaking eyes.

_Hilarious! Fucking hilarious! You hilarious fucking reckless **idiot**!_

“Breathe, Derek.”

Deaton squeezes his arm and Derek breathes because he might as well, since he’s pretty much lost control over everything else in this situation.

Ten minutes later, Derek’s staring at the screen of the ultrasound machine and feeling seriously torn between laughing in disbelief and crying his eyes out.

The first time he truly fell in love with a boy at the age of 17, Derek thought about what it would be like to give him a child one day.

At night, he sometimes stuffed a pillow under his shirt and imagined it, his hands running over the fake bump as he envisioned being pregnant, giving birth, and having a little family of his own.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, but Derek’s pretty sure that none of these scenarios ever included seeing his baby for the first time while lying on a metal table in a vet clinic, shaking, nauseous, and feeling utterly afraid and devastatingly alone.

His brain is running, a barrage of thoughts whirling through his head.

_It’s too early!_

_We haven’t even been together for three full months!_

_Stiles doesn’t even know I’m a werewolf!_

_How am I supposed to tell him?_

_Is he going to leave me?_

_How am I supposed to do this alone?_

_How did this even happen?_

_We were always so careful; how could this have happened?_

He blurts out the last question, looking at Deaton with wide, terrified eyes.

Deaton clears his throat, looking a little uncomfortable as he lists all the possibilities of how condoms can be damaged.

Derek racks his brain desperately, trying to remember a moment where either of them might have been careless.

“The office party just before Valentine’s Day?” he mutters to himself, his voice going high-pitched in his panic as he remembers how excited he’d been about showing off his new boyfriend at a work event for the first time.

How good Stiles had looked in his suit.

How Derek had all but climbed him when they’d finally gotten back home.

How Stiles had been a little tipsy that night, his hands on Derek a little clumsier and more hurried than usual.

Clumsy.

Clumsy enough to …

“You’re a bit farther along than that, Derek.”

Derek’s gaze snaps towards the emissary.

“I … _what_? How far along am I?”

“Given the size of the baby? About ten weeks, I’d say,” Deaton says calmly, turning back to the screen with a frown as Derek’s stomach turns into a solid block of ice.

For a moment, Derek just stares at him with wide eyes, his heartbeat picking up as he frantically starts counting backwards.

“When … when could I have conceived?”

Deaton’s answer punches the breath out of Derek’s lungs, his head flooding with images as he starts to shake.

Stiles, taking him home after their first date and kissing him dizzy, never breaking eye-contact as he slides inside.

Stiles, rocking into him in a tiny airplane bathroom, biting at his earlobe and making him see stars.

Soft, dark brown eyes and gentle hands, a steady whisper of praises in a language that Derek doesn’t understand.

Derek closes his eyes and sees them both.

The man who’s quickly becoming the love of his life … and a one-night stand in Paris he’s all but forgotten about. 

He’s fucked.

Really, truly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise :). 
> 
> I got done with a work thing earlier than I thought and found some time for editing, so I figured, why drag this out another two days when it's done and ready to go now :)
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies.

_Ten weeks._

Derek drives home in a daze and collapses on his bed, staring at the wall for hours without moving.

_Ten weeks._

Derek goes through the motions at work, keeps finding reasons to skip lunch with his colleagues, and spends his breaks in the little park outside the office, the cool, fresh air doing exactly nothing to soothe his newly acquired and already much detested morning sickness.

_Ten weeks._

Derek goes to the store after work and distractedly buys sushi to go, only to toss it after one bite when he remembers that even pregnant werewolves probably shouldn’t be eating raw fish. 

_Ten weeks._

He tries and utterly fails to button his favorite pair of jeans, the panicked rushing of his blood getting louder than ever when he remembers just why his belly is so bloated. 

_Ten weeks._

He gets stuck in traffic on the drive to pick Stiles up from the airport and grabs the steering wheel as tightly as he can to stop touching the barely-there bulge of his stomach, his fingers clenching so hard his claws end up leaving dents in the leather. 

_Ten weeks._

Stiles almost jumps over the reeling to get to him when he exits the baggage claim and Derek clings to him desperately, trying to imprint the feeling of him into his skin and trying not to think about how he’s not going to get to hold him much longer.

_Ten weeks._

Stiles passes out soon after they get to Derek’s apartment, winded from the conference and the flight.

Derek watches him sleep for a while, loving him so much it hurts to breathe and wanting to scream when he thinks about how deeply he’s going to hurt Stiles.

He’s been so stupid.

So reckless.

So irresponsible.

Ten weeks. 

Well.

Eleven, given that it’s been exactly a week since Derek’s life was turned upside down on a metal table in a veterinary clinic.

Eleven.

It’s a maddening number, a number that makes Derek question his every past choices and every decision he has yet to make.

Derek is eleven weeks pregnant, which means he’s been pregnant for pretty much as long as he’s dated Stiles.

 _Maybe even longer_ , he reminds himself, looking back at Stiles and wondering if it’s possible to feel one’s heart breaking in two.

Then, he thinks of Patrice.

Patrice, whose eyes had been dark and promising, meeting Derek’s from the other side of the bar.

Whose kisses had tasted of red wine and just the barest hint of smoke.

Who’d slipped his hand in between Derek’s thighs during the cab ride back to his hotel, rubbing against the growing bulge with a cheeky little smile.

Who’d barely spoken any English but whose tongue had been incredibly skilled at worshiping Derek’s body.

Who’d ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and flipped Derek over with big, strong hands, letting out a grunt of pleasure as he’d pushed inside.

Whose parting kiss on Derek’s forehead had been soft and affectionate.

A hookup.

A one-night stand in a foreign city in another country, no number exchanged, and no promises made. 

A handsome stranger whose last name Derek doesn’t even know and whom he hasn’t thought about at all from the moment he’d first looked into Stiles’ eyes. 

It’s certainly possible that Stiles is the father of his baby.

Highly likely, actually, given how much time Stiles’ dick spent inside him in the short window of his maculate conception. 

It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that the condom broke when Stiles pounded into him in the cramped bathroom.

It’s even more plausible that the condom broke when Stiles tore open the package without even looking, too focused on kissing Derek and making him see stars.

It _has_ to be possible, is what it comes down to.

With the exception of not being pregnant _at all_ , Derek wants nothing more than for Stiles to be the father of his baby.

Except...

Except...

He doesn’t know for sure.

He won’t know for sure until his baby is born, and his head spins every time he remembers he’s going to spend the next _twenty-nine weeks_ with a paternity-sized Damocles sword hanging over his head.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

There are movies made about situations like this and Derek never auditioned to star in any of them.

Yet, here he is, pregnant and with no clue who the father is.

Derek knows he needs to tell Stiles.

Knows that he must tell him, in fact, if he wants to have even the tiniest chance of saving the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Unfortunately, he’s absolutely terrified.

“Fun fact! I’m a werewolf! Also, I’m totally knocked up! Don’t write the child support check just yet though, because guess what? You might not even be the father!”

Yeah.

Derek’s really _fucking_ terrified.

============

_11 Weeks_

As it turns out, Derek isn’t just terrified of telling Stiles he’s a werewolf, pregnant, and possibly having another man’s baby.

He’s also terrified of something happening to it, now that he knows it’s there and completely depending on him to make smart choices about his life.

The joke’s on his little one, obviously, because Derek has made some spectacularly dumb choices in the past two and a half months.

On the first night he spends alone after Stiles’ return from New York City, Derek tosses and turns in bed and thinks about the one choice he _isn’t_ questioning right now.

He’s going to keep it.

It’s not like he has to.

In fact, it’s probably downright insane, given the two more than likely future paths in front of him.

Scenario A – he’s having a baby with a guy he’s been dating for barely three months and his baby-daddy might either get out the pitchfork or run for the hills, because Derek is pretty sure Stiles never asked for the blessing of parenthood via virtue of shoving his dick up another dude’s ass.

Scenario B – he’s having a baby with a stranger in Paris, a stranger whose last name he doesn’t even know and whom he’s unlikely to ever run into again.

He could still end this, before it ends up ruining everything completely.

It’s his life and his choice.

He doesn’t have to keep it.

He’s also already head-over-heels in love with the little blob he saw on Deaton’s ultrasound monitor, and the thought of never getting to meet it properly is even more terrifying than the idea of Stiles leaving him over this.

So yeah.

He’s a pregnant werewolf idiot with two potential baby daddies and he’s keeping his baby.

Now, he just needs to figure out how to tell Stiles without losing him forever

Piece of cake.

==============

_12 Weeks_

Derek has no clue how to tell Stiles.

None.

Nada.

Zilch.

It’s been more than two weeks since he found out about the baby and the only thing that’s keeping him sane right now is that his morning sickness has finally passed and that Stiles is focusing on a big case, which thankfully distracts him enough so he doesn’t notice that Derek’s acting really fucking weird.

One morning, Stiles swings by his place after a nightshift and brings him croissants that are still warm, only for Derek to lose his recently recovered appetite when he remembers his own bun cooking in the oven.

When Stiles takes him to a Lakers game that Derek has been looking forward to for weeks, Derek barely pays attention to the game because he can’t stop looking at the basketball and wondering when he’ll start looking like he swallowed one. 

When Stiles tries to initiate sex on his day off, Derek goes and shames werewolves everywhere by pretending to have a headache.

Stiles is sweet about it, but Derek definitely doesn’t miss the weird look he gives him when he thinks he’s not watching.

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_I want you._

_Except not right now, because my super-secret werewolf pregnancy hormones are making me feel like a dead fish._

_Also, I had a dream last night where you fucked me so deeply that you poked a hole in my amniotic sac and when you pulled out the baby was sitting on your dick and yes, I **know** that’s not even **remotely** biologically possible, but I’m pregnant and I think I’m going crazy and I also **really** don’t want to lose you so please, please, **please** don’t leave me!_

It’s official.

He’s going insane.

Also, he knows damn well that keeping this a secret is probably the dumbest idea he’s ever had, given that the problem isn’t going to go away if he just sits it out long enough.

And yet, things with Stiles are still so … _good_.

He knows he’s just making it worse the longer he waits, but still … Derek simply can’t bring himself to give this up.

Not yet.

==============

_13 Weeks_

Derek’s boss puts him in charge of one of their biggest clients and Derek simultaneously curses him for the extra hours spent at the office and the gift of having an excuse to put off his talk with Stiles even longer.

Four days into the project from hell, Stiles shows up at Derek’s office with a thermos full of hot chocolate and a tupperware box of homemade cherry-chocolate muffins, partly because he’s the best boyfriend ever and partly because Derek hasn’t quite been able to hide that he’s currently craving sweets like he’s Augustus Gloop set lose in the chocolate factory.

“What a lovely young man you’ve got there,” their department secretary remarks after Stiles has left, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she leans down to give his belly a little pat.

“Just make sure he doesn’t spoil you too much! You’ve been packing on the happy relationship pounds lately, my dear!”

Derek freezes with his cheeks full of muffin, his ears turning splotchy red and his eyes burning with …

 _Oh no,_ he thinks desperately, because no, no way, he’s not going to cry over this.

Unfortunately, Derek’s hormones think otherwise.

“Oh bless your heart, sweetie, I didn’t mean …”

“Excuse me,” Derek gets out, slamming down the box of muffins on his desk and leaving his cubicle.

When he’s safe in the men’s bathroom and has locked the door behind him, he stares at his reflection for a long time, examining the changes in his body from all angles.

It’s not _that_ noticeable, actually.

Sure, his cheeks are a little fuller, his butt a bit rounder, and his stomach a little thicker, but he’s nowhere even close to looking pregnant.

He takes a deep breath.

Then another.

Then, he marches back to his cubicle and eats the rest of the muffins in one sitting out of sheer spite, glaring thunderously at their secretary every time she walks by.

 _Our mate provides for us so well_ , the wolf praises happily when all the muffins are gone, and Derek sends Stiles a cookie and a heart emoji, which Stiles responds to with a litany of kissy faces and heart-eyes.

That night, Derek ponders the insanity of mood-swings and the inconveniences of pregnancy heartburn until the early morning hours, trying and failing to use Netflix as a distraction from the sour-tasting burps and the uncomfortable burning sensation in his chest.

 _I have to tell him_. _Before he starts thinking I’ve been replaced by a crazy pod-person._

_I’m scared though. I’m really **fucking** scared! _

==============

_14 Weeks_

Their secretary was right.

Derek might not be all too happy right now, but he's definitely putting on relationship pounds.

Because he's had relations, indeed, and his newly developed curves are very much related to said relations. 

Well.

He’s not busting out of his clothes quite yet, but he can no longer fasten any of his jeans and all of his henleys seem to have shrunken in the wash, snuggly hugging his little paunch and making the newly developed roundness of his belly obvious from space.

According to the app he’s hidden in the _Taxes_ folder on his phone, his baby is now the size of an orange and has apparently doubled its weight in the past week alone, which probably explains why his middle has graduated from thick to chubby territory in only a few short days.

Desperate, Derek compensates by pulling his biggest hoodies from the back of the closet, even though it’s already mid-April and starting to get warm.

Stiles gives him a strange look when he picks him up for their weekly dinner date, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Sadly, Derek’s relief is short-lived.

Instead on commenting on his now obvious weight gain, his lovely and considerate millennial boyfriend has apparently heard of the detrimental effects of fat-shaming and instead caresses Derek’s softened side as they walk down Santa Monica Pier, buys him funnel cake with strawberries, chocolate, _and_ whipped cream without blinking an eye, and then grips Derek’s chubbier than usual waist as he gently kisses powdered sugar off of the tip of Derek’s nose.

It’s simultaneously the most satisfying and most terrifying date of Derek’s life.

On the one hand, his wolf is positively _thrilled_ at having its cravings provided for so dutifully, and Derek imagines it lounging in its den, belly round with cubs and lavishly devouring the food its mate has brought.

On the other hand, the rational part of Derek wants Stiles to stop paying attention to his belly stat, though he’s not quite sure how to communicate that without drawing even more attention to his baby-related new curves.

Because Stiles has noticed.

Yep.

He’s definitely noticed and drawn the completely wrong conclusions, as Derek realizes later that night when Stiles spoons him from behind, gently cradles his pudgy stomach, and whispers “You always feel so good in my arms” as he falls asleep.

Derek barely dares to breathe as he looks down and takes in the sight of Stiles’ large hand protectively cupping his little baby-belly, looking so right and so wrong at the same time.

There’s a small part of Derek that still can’t believe he got himself into this mess, a significant part that feels incredibly sorry for himself, and an even larger part that’s incredibly sorry for his tiny bean, who definitely didn’t ask to have such a big scaredy wolf for a father.

_Tomorrow! I’ll tell him tomorrow!_

Derek doesn’t tell Stiles the next day.

Or the day after that.

==============

_Week 15_

Derek hates everything about his life.

Every. Single. Thing.

Apart from Stiles, obviously.

Also, his baby, who’s now as big as a pear and gleefully messing with his waistline, bladder, memory, and all over all sanity.

On Monday, he forgets his keys at home and has to climb up the fire ladder to break into his own damn apartment, huffing and puffing like a locomotive and feeling heavier than he actually is.

On Tuesday, he snaps viciously at the new intern for taking the last custard filled donut and feels like a monster for the rest of the day, his bad mood not even soothed by Stiles’ attempts to kiss his “sour face” away.

On Wednesday afternoon, Derek spontaneously buys a can of pickles and a tub of vanilla-ice-cream and eats his spoils all in one sitting, leaving him with a stomachache from hell and the growing realization that he’s lost complete control over the soap opera called _All My Baby-Daddies_ that is now his life.

On Thursday, Derek bends down to pick up a folder from the floor and the last pair of dress pants he could still wear splits with a loud crack, his cheeks heating up and his ears burning red as he feels the eyes of every single one of his colleagues on the Superman boxer briefs that Stiles gave him as a gift just a week ago.

On Friday, Derek is an absolute nervous wreck and resolutely tells himself that he’ll finally confess his secret to his boyfriend, chanting “Yes I can!” over and over as he drives to Stiles’ apartment. 

He’s still afraid that Stiles is going to leave him, but he also knows that Stiles _means_ it when he tells him he loves him.

He’s thought about it a lot in the past week, and even though he knows he’s not just going to throw a life-changer but an actual _reality_ -changer at him, Derek’s also pretty sure he’s never met a human _more_ equipped to deal with the unexpected.

When Stiles opens the door with red-rimmed eyes and falls into Derek’s arms with a shuddering sigh, Derek immediately scraps all of his plans for dramatic revelations.

“It’s just … he looks almost exactly like I did at his age, you know?”

They’re on the couch and Stiles’ head is in Derek’s lap, his voice a little strained as he tries to explain why his newest case is hitting a little too close to home.

“I need to find her! I need to find that little boy’s mom! I need to get her back to him, I need … _fuck_!”

Stiles is shaking again and Derek’s arm around his chest tightens, hoping it’ll ground and anchor him the same way that Stiles’ embrace has comforted Derek.

It takes Stiles a while to calm down, his sniffles gradually tapering off and his shoulders no longer shaking by the time he turns around to look up at Derek.

He stares at him for a long time, reaching up to trace the contours of Derek’s face with gentle fingertips.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, and Derek bends down to kiss him, hoping it’ll tell him that he’ll never have to thank him for being there.

The movement is definitely not as comfortable as it would be if he didn’t currently have a baby the size of a navel orange growing in his belly.

The position also makes it a little hard to breathe and Derek has to break the kiss far too soon, panting a little and hoping that Stiles will believe it’s just arousal.

When Stiles looks at him with dilated pupils and a questioning smile, Derek doesn’t even have to pretend.

He _wants_.

It’s the first time in almost a month that he really, truly _wants_ , his cock already leaking in his underwear when Stiles pulls him up from the couch.

It’s good.

It’s really, _really_ good.

Derek is on his side and Stiles is spooning him from behind, his thrusts long and languid as he kisses Derek’s neck and shoulders.

It’s slow, easy, and comfortable.

It’s exactly what Derek’s been craving without even realizing it.

Stiles’ fingers are doing amazing things, too, one hand lightly twisting Derek’s ridiculously sensitive nipples and the other wrapped around his cock, stroking it with almost the exact same pace he’s setting for his thrusts.

Derek feels like he’s floating by the time he comes, his orgasm hitting him almost like an afterthought.

He feels loved, safe, and protected in his mate’s arms, and Stiles’ shuddery moan as he comes makes Derek’s wolf preen, his spent cock giving a valiant twitch at the knowledge that he’s made his mate feel good.

 _He deserves it! He provides for us so well!_ Derek’s wolf tells him, his whole body feeling warm with happiness and affection.

Stiles pulls out and tosses the condom, disappearing momentarily to get a washcloth.

Derek’s still feeling a little bit dazed when Stiles returns, letting out a questioning sound and humming happily when Stiles bends down for a gentle kiss.

He’s spilled all over his belly and Stiles takes his time cleaning him, rubbing the cloth over Derek’s little bump in gentle circles.

Normally, Derek would be tensing right now, but he’s still too come-drunk, still too overwhelmed, feeling simply happy to be with Stiles like this again, after almost a month spent hopelessly trying to suck in his stomach and pretending his sex drive hasn’t dwindled down to zero.

 _Protective mate_ , the wolf sighs happily and Derek forgets himself for a moment, stretching so his vulnerable middle is fully exposed to Stiles.

He’s mostly avoided touching his belly so far, abstaining in private so it won’t become a habit in public, but Stiles’ warm hands on his belly are like magic, the gentle rubs and caresses making him feel infinitely loved and cherished.

“You’re beautiful,” Stiles murmurs and Derek closes his eyes with a contented smile, soaking in the praises and touches as he starts dozing off.

Then, Stiles kisses Derek’s belly.

It’s just a harmless little kiss.

It doesn’t feel harmless to Derek, though, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes flying open in shock as reality comes crashing back to him.

Stiles falls asleep soon after.

Derek doesn’t sleep at all.

==============

_16 Weeks_

Stiles runs himself ragged in his attempt to find the little boy’s mother, and Derek doesn’t take it personally when he barely hears from him at all for days.

Actually, he’s almost glad that Stiles is so busy, feeling thoroughly shaken about their last night together.

He’s still terrified of telling Stiles about the baby.

Still afraid of the possibility that Stiles is going to walk out on him and never come back.

And yet, there’s a growing need in him to tell Stiles, a tiny voice that is urging him to stop wasting time they’re never going to get back.

Stiles obviously didn’t know what he was doing when he caressed Derek’s belly with such affection.

Indeed, Derek’s pretty sure his boyfriend still thinks he’s self-conscious about his weight-gain and has been trying to reassure him without actually bringing it up.

Derek wants it to be real, though.

He’s gone crazy, obviously, because for as much as he’s afraid of Stiles realizing the true reason for the steady growth of his belly, he also longs for him to cradle it and kiss it, talk to it and look at it with the same wonder that Derek can’t help but feel every time he stares into the mirror and notices the newest changes to his body.

He wants to go to Target with Stiles and pick out cute little outfits and adorably tiny booties, wants to argue about names, fantasize about what their baby will look like, and plan a nursery for his little one to feel safe and loved in.

He wants – a lot of things, honestly.

Unfortunately, he’s also a cowardly were-lion and his reality is the tragic opposite of all his dreams and desires.

Instead, he resolutely walks by the baby section when he shops at Target, his loft is really not a place to raise a child, and his chest tightens every time he remembers that there’s a good chance his baby won’t look like _either_ of them and Stiles won’t be able to handle it.

Most of all, however, he’s tired of being so afraid all the time.

He’s also tired of having to pretend in his own den, the one place where he shouldn’t have to hide who he truly is.

He wants to enjoy his pregnancy, look forward to meeting his baby, and he wants to have Stiles by his side through it all.

And still, he’s fucking terrified.

It’s maddening and frustrating and probably even a bit pathetic, and in his darkest moments Derek even catches himself thinking that cowards like him really shouldn’t be having a baby at all.

On Saturday morning of a torturous week of self-hate and no Stiles, Derek gets the tenth stern voice mail from Deaton about not scheduling another appointment and he caves, figuring it’s as good an opportunity as any, since Stiles is still busy working and won’t be able stop by despite the fact that it’s a weekend. 

The drive up to Beacon Hills takes an hour and a half longer than Derek’s used to, since he has to stop and pee almost every hour.

Also, road food and pregnancy cravings are a devilish combination, and by the time he finally pulls up at the Beacon Hill’s vet clinic a little more than eight hours after he left Los Angeles, Derek’s tired, moody, gassy, and seriously unimpressed with his body’s insistence to crave things that are obviously horribly bad for him.

Deaton gives him a look that’s basically his version of an epic bitchface when Derek hastily wipes the last traces of his banana split-mint-raspberry-chocolate fudge sundae out of the corners of his mouth, his eyes screaming judgment and resignation as he guides Derek to the examination room.

Derek’s back hurts from sitting for so long and he’s burping like he’s a fire-breathing dragon, so he really isn’t in the mood to be shamed for stress eating when he has, in fact, never been more stressed out in his life.

Then, Deaton presses the ultrasound wand against his belly and Derek forgets about his body’s various aches and pains, too mesmerized by the fact that his tiny little blob is actually looking like a baby now.

“It has a head!” he says in wonder, not really prepared for the rush of love and protectiveness that courses through him at the sight of his beautiful, perfect little baby. 

“And two legs and two arms,” Deaton confirms, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so fondly as he turns back to the screen.

“I can also tell you what’s _between_ the legs, if you’re at all interested,” the emissary continues, quirking a questioning eyebrow at Derek.

Derek startles, realizing that he has been far too occupied with angsting over who the baby’s father is to even give a second thought to what its gender might be.

“I … I don’t know if I want to know,” he says eventually, figuring that the unknown is pretty much the theme of his life right now and he might as well continue the trend.

“Call me if you change your mind,” Deaton says, his lips still twitching fondly as he lifts the ultrasound wand from Derek’s stomach and hands him a paper towel to wipe up the gel.

Derek would much rather keep looking at his beautiful baby, but he can also tell that Deaton is itching to move on to the part of the appointment where he questions Derek’s life-choices and all overall sanity.

Resigned to his fate, Derek pushes himself up with a sigh, steeling himself for judgment and unwanted advice as he follows Deaton to his office.

As usual, Deaton doesn’t disappoint.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that being a werewolf is no license to eat junk,” Deaton begins once they’ve sat down, staring at him judgmentally and very deliberately handing him an apple.

“Also, I am quite certain I mentioned that eating for two shouldn’t be taken literally. Just because you’re not at risk for gestational diabetes or high blood pressure doesn’t mean you should go overboard with the cravings.”

“The cub wants it,” Derek says defensively, feeling stupid as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Deaton sighs.

“The cub has recently developed enough facial muscles to frown and I can guarantee you, it’s frowning and squinting at you in disbelief right now.”

Derek huffs, though he does file that utterly adorable image away to marvel about it later. 

“I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately,” he tries next and Deaton sighs even louder, his fingers forming a triangle over his stomach as he presses his hands together and stares him down.

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. Derek, your living situation is the opposite of ideal for a pregnant werewolf. When your employer assigned you to the project in Los Angeles and you asked your mother for permission to move, I think we were all under the impression that it was only going to be temporary. You’ve been down there for three years now, Derek.”

“But I’ve visited at least every other month and usually Laura and Cora come down when I can’t make the drive! I’m not going to become an Omega, my pack bonds are strong and …”

“True as that may be, your cub would really benefit from having a strong pack around. Those first pack bonds between a new Beta and its Alpha are formed even while in utero, regardless of whether the Alpha is the pregnant Beta’s mate, sibling, parent, or not even related at all.”

“But … wait, are you saying I’m _harming_ my baby by …”

“No, no, no!” Deaton says quickly, holding up both hands before Derek can give in to his hormonal overreaction of lunging over the table and throttling the emissary for not telling him earlier.

“I said _benefit_. To you as well, I should add, which is why I think you should go and visit your mother after this appointment is over and tell her she’s going to be a grandmother.”

Derek lets out a breath between pursed lips, starting to feel a little pissed off.

“I can’t tell her yet! I haven’t even told …”

Derek bites his lip, _definitely_ not interested in discussing the turmoil of his complicated love life with Deaton of all people.

Deaton suddenly looks like he’s getting a root canal, so Derek hopes the feeling is mutual.

His hopes are dashed, because of course they are.

“That is another issue we need to talk about, Derek. I truly don’t mean to pry, but as your mother’s emissary I do need to know. Is your pregnancy going to cause a diplomatic incident?”

“ _What_? No!”

Deaton frowns, looking like he’s clearly not convinced.

“According to your sisters, you’ve been dating a young detective for a couple of months now, but when I told you how far along you were it seemed as if there was a chance that…well…that this young man might not be the father?”

Derek looks away, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

Damn hormones.

Damn them all to hell.

“You don’t know.”

Deaton’s voice is careful, but there’s no judgement this time.

Derek sighs heavily, cradling his stomach with both hands.

“There was someone else. Before. Just once. Just the once.”

“I see. Would this _someone_ potentially challenge your young detective over claiming you and the cub?”

Derek shakes his head, not looking up as he keeps stroking his belly.

“No. He’s human. They’re both human.”

Deaton lets out a breath and his relief is palpable in the air, enough so that Derek tenses retroactively when he realizes just how much more complicated this already maddening situation could have been.

“Good. In that case, I guess the matter of your relocation isn’t as urgent as I previously assumed. You should still think about coming home though, Derek. Soon.”

Derek lets out a bitter laugh, looking up at the emissary and and shaking his head.

“So that’s it? I get myself knocked up because I’m a damn idiot and now you want me to give up my job and the life that I made for myself down in Los Angeles?”

He slaps a hand against his thigh, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes against his will.

“You want me to give up everything and move back in with my parents at the age of thirty? And what about Stiles? Do you really think he’s going to come with me, after he _just_ made detective and is finally getting the respect and recognition that he’s worked so damn hard for?”

“Derek …”

“I can do it! I can keep working and I can raise my baby and I don’t need the pack breathing down my neck and judging me and …”

“Derek! Breathe!”

Derek lets out a frustrated breath that is mostly a sob and Deaton frowns at him, his gaze drifting down to his belly and his eyebrows rising meaningfully.

“Let’s ignore for a second that you’re soon going to reach a point where you won’t be able to hide this anymore and let’s _also_ ignore that you can’t well put in a request for maternity leave,” the emissary says calmly, shaking his head when Derek looks away.

“The question is not whether you can do this alone. The question is why you’d want to make your life unnecessarily hard when you’ve got a whole pack that would rally around you and your little one?”

“My job …”

“You’re an architect, Derek. They do build houses in other cities, I hear.”

“I built a life down there, Alan,” Derek says softly, trying very hard not to cry as he looks at the emissary again.

It’s the first time he’s called him by his first name, but he needs him to understand that this isn’t about Derek being a child that’s throwing a temper tantrum.

It’s about his life.

Except.

Except it’s no longer just about _his_ life at all.

“The entire pack has been very proud of how much you’ve accomplished. Your mother tells me so all the time,” Deaton replies, squeezing Derek’s shoulder tightly.

“However, you did make a choice, Derek, and that choice came with commitment to a big change. A number of big changes, really. You’re in the lucky position to have a lot of support as you make those changes. Try to focus on the people who’ll help you through this transition, rather than the pain of the transition itself.”

Derek exhales shakily, rubbing a hand across his face as he lets the emissary’s words sink in.

He can’t undo any of the choices he made that brought him to this point and he’s certainly not about to slut-shame himself for having safe sex.

He didn’t choose for the condom to break.

Nobody did.

He also didn’t choose to find the love of his life not even twenty-four hours after a one-night stand with possibly life-altering consequences and he _definitely_ knows that angsting about it isn’t going to change anything.

“I … I guess I have a lot of things to sort out,” he says after a long pause and Deaton nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Telling your family would be a good start, Derek.”

Derek sighs.

He knows.

Deaton sighs, too, and for the first time since their conversation started, he looks very openly judgmental.

“It’s your decision, Derek. For your sanity’s sake, however, I’d encourage you to do that as soon as possible. Also, please remember that your baby doesn’t quite have the option of hitting the pause button on its development until you’ve figured all of this out. Your pregnancy is progressing, and I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I knew my patients were safe and happy nearby, rather than feeling miserable and making questionable choices half a day’s travel away. No offense.”

“I know!” Derek huffs, because he does, the lingering soreness in his back from the drive up telling him as much.

“As soon as possible, Derek,” Deaton says again, and Derek doesn’t stop thinking about it all the way back to Los Angeles.

He’s completely and utterly exhausted when he collapses onto his bed in the early morning hours, drained emotionally and physically and feeling heavy in many ways as he thinks about the changes he’s going to have to make.

It’s a lot all at once and it’s daunting, but now that Deaton’s put the idea in his head, he can’t stop imagining his baby growing up amongst its pack.

He imagines his cub’s adorable tiny feet as it runs barefoot through the forest, hears its laughter and feels its joy, an echo of his own carefree childhood.

Deaton’s right.

The big city is no place for a werewolf cub.

The whole thing is possibly all kinds of daunting and terrifying, but Derek doesn’t really need Deaton to tell him that he’s going to have an army to get him through it.

Except...

Except…

There’s one big change his family can’t help him with.

He’s going to have to change Stiles’ entire worldview.

And that is possibly the scariest change of all. 

==============

_17 Weeks_

The fight comes out of nowhere.

One moment, they are snuggling on Stiles’ couch, celebrating that Stiles was able to solve his missing person case and managed to reunite a very happy boy with his mother.

The next, they are snapping at each other, their voices getting louder with each hurtful word.

Derek isn’t even sure what triggered it, all he knows is that Stiles is glaring at him with a mixture of hurt and anger and also a whole lot of frustration and it makes him want to _run_.

Run to get away from the hurt, run to get away from the anger, run until he’s safely back in his den and can hide from the complicated mess that is his life.

He takes two steps towards the door and freezes, because Stiles lets out a laugh that’s so furious and bitter that it makes Derek’s skin crawl.

“Oh yeah! _That’s_ going to solve the problem alright!”

Derek whirls around, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I don’t even know what your fucking problem _is_ , Stiles!” he snaps, and Stiles barks out another laugh, looking even angrier than before.

“My problem? _My_ problem? I don’t have any problems, Derek! You, on the other hand, seem to be having a _lot_ of problems, lately! Problems you aren’t sharing with me, mind you, because why would you, I’m just your fucking boyfriend, right?”

“What are you …”

“Oh don’t you dare ask me what I’m talking about! You _know_ what I’m talking about!”

“No, I really fucking don’t, I …”

“Oh please! You’ve been acting fucking weird for _weeks_ now! Ever since I got back from that damn conference it’s been … I don’t even fucking know!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek exclaims, panic rising in his chest at the horribly _knowing_ look on Stiles’ face.

“Of course you do! I don’t know what the hell happened the week I was gone, but it must have been something _big_ , because I got back and suddenly everything was different!”

He takes a step towards Derek, ticking off his evidence with both hands.

“The week after I got back you were distracted the entire time, you barely ate, and I don’t think you’ve even gone one night without getting up multiple times since!”

 _It’s not my fault the baby makes me pee all the time!_ Derek wisely doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t even have time to feel shocked that Stiles noticed, since his boyfriend is already barreling on, looking even angrier than before.

“I took you to the Lakers and you barely paid attention the first half and looked like you wanted to cry the second! You barely touched me for two weeks and you actually pretended to have a headache that one time! A headache, Derek!”

He slaps his hands against his thighs, letting out a frustrated growl to rival a grown werewolf.

“Listen, you obviously don’t _owe_ me sex, dude, but honesty is a thing and I don’t appreciate being lied to! Not in general and definitely not in the bedroom! I don’t know _what_ kind of impression I must have given you that you felt you couldn’t tell me no, but pulling away from me like that? You made me feel like crap, Derek!”

“I didn’t … I didn’t mean to do that!”

“I finally thought I’d figured it all out though! When you started wearing all those hoodies, I figured you were getting a little self-conscious about putting on a little weight. Hell, I figured it was probably due to you being so stressed out, so I didn’t bring it up because I’m not the asshole you apparently take me for!”

His gaze briefly drops to Derek’s middle, but he tears his eyes away just as quickly, his cheeks heating as his voice gets louder.

“But then you came over that one night when I was so torn up about that damn case and suddenly it was like everything was back the way it was before! _Better_ than it was, actually, because the sex we had that night was like a fucking spiritual experience! So, I thought well, he’s finally realized that I’m not shallow asshole, maybe he’s going to open up about what’s been stressing him out so much for the past month!”

Stiles takes another step towards him and Derek feels gutted by how upset he smells, as if he’s already bracing himself for a worst-case-scenario he can’t even begin to imagine.

“Then, I didn’t see you for a week because I was so caught up with that case and I figured that maybe giving you space would actually help! But you know what, Derek? I think it’s gotten even worse!”

He’s in Derek’s space now, his heartbeat a steady staccato in Derek’s ears and his scent a mixture of bitterness and sadness that makes the werewolf almost nauseous.

“Do you even realize how you’ve been looking at me this past week? You look fucking _sad_ , Derek! You give me these looks when you think I’m not paying attention and it’s like I’ve gone and ripped your heart out of your chest or something! And I don’t. fucking. know. why!”

He takes another step, his eyes flashing with hurt and his voice turning decidedly desperate. 

“You look at me like I’ve done this terrible thing to you! But I haven’t done anything! Or at least I don’t think I did! Did I? Can you just fucking tell me already what’s wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything!” Derek exclaims, his gut twisting in shock and dismay when Stiles throws up his hands in the air and exhales noisily in exasperation.

“Then why are you punishing me? Because that’s what this feels like! You’re shutting me out, you’re drawing away, you’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong and you’re not even telling me what I can do to fucking fix it!”

 _You idiot!_ Derek wants to scream at himself, because he’s literally been the biggest idiot on the planet for telling himself that Stiles wouldn’t realize that something’s wrong.

_You idiot! You fucking idiot! Did you really think that someone who aced his detective exam wouldn’t notice any of this?_

Derek doesn’t know what he thought, but he’s pretty sure he hadn’t expected Stiles to notice _everything_ , including things that Derek hasn’t even been aware of.

“I…I…”

“You what?”

All the anger has gone out of Stiles’ voice.

Instead, he’s looking at Derek like he’s already been defeated and Derek’s heart twists for him, because he’s absolutely right.

He didn’t deserve to be made to feel that way.

He doesn’t deserve Derek’s silence now.

“I’m sorry! I’m truly sorry. It’s not…you didn’t do anything. It’s not your fault! It’s...I’ve been…I can’t…You haven’t done anything wrong!”

_Tell him!_

Derek reaches for Stiles’ hand and squeezes, relief flooding through him when Stiles doesn’t immediately pull away.

He takes a breath.

Then another.

And another.

“It’s...it’s a family thing. I can’t...I don’t...”

“Oh shit,” Stiles says softly, and then his arms are suddenly around Derek, the anger in his scent melting away and replaced with worry.

“I’m so sorry for making you feel this way, Stiles! I never wanted to do that, I thought I...”

“Hey, no,” Stiles cuts him off, his arms tightening around him as he lets out a soft sigh.

“I know a thing or two about family things. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up while angry, I don’t...do you want to tell me?”

 _Yes_!

_No!_

_Not like this._

_Not while we’re both so worked up._

“I want to tell you. I do. It’s just...”

“It’s family,” Stiles finishes, looking so understanding and worried that it makes Derek feel a little dirty, almost.

It’s not a lie, technically.

It’s an easy way out, though, because he knows Stiles won’t press now.

He has to tell him.

He has to tell him because he can already see the resignation in his boyfriend’s beautiful amber eyes and the smell of his heartache is almost suffocating in the air.

“I don’t want to pressure you. When you feel up to telling me, I’ll be here. You know that, right?”

The way he says it feels like a punch to the gut, his question sounding so uncertain as though he really is wondering whether Derek knows that Stiles will always be there for him.

Derek knows.

Of course he knows.

He also knows that he can’t tell him now, not while they’re both still reeling from the first fight they’ve ever had.

He can’t wait any longer though.

He’s already hurt Stiles enough as it is.

Tomorrow

This time, there’s not going to be an excuse.

He’s been running away from the situation for the better part of six weeks now.

It’s time to finally face reality. 

==============

_17 Weeks and 1 Day_

Derek spends the day after their fight cleaning his apartment, cooking a feast, and trying very hard not to vibrate out of his own body.

He’s going to tell Stiles.

He can’t drag this out any longer.

Of course that also means his wolf’s anxiety is going through the roof right now, because he knows full well he’s about to go against his Alpha’s express orders.

Telling Stiles before he tells his family also means he’s going to have to tell Stiles about the werewolf situation before getting his mother’s approval, and Derek’s definitely not going to have a chance at the Beta of the Year Award this year.

He tells himself she’ll understand, very deliberately not thinking about her opinions on everything else he’ll have to confess once he’s finally come clean to Stiles.

By the time Stiles rings the doorbell that evening, Derek’s nerves are shot to hell and his stomach’s tight with anxiety.

“Hey,” Stiles says hesitantly when he steps inside and Derek doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows twitch when he gets a good look at him.

Derek doesn’t blame him.

After all, he’s deliberately put on one of the few shirts from before that he can still wear, a soft maroon sweater with thumbholes that makes him feel comfortable and safe.

Unlike his old henleys, the sweater is still covering all of his belly, but it’s also tight, stretching over the curve of his abdomen and making the swell glaringly obvious.

Also, Stiles’ reaction just confirms what his clothes have been telling him already.

He’s starting to actually look pregnant.

Yep.

He really is starting to look pregnant and the idea of keeping the whole thing from Stiles even longer would be a mistake even if his boyfriend _hadn’t_ caught on to the fact that something’s going on.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly, holding up his arms and exhaling when Stiles steps into his embrace without hesitation, his hands coming to rest on Derek’s waist and his nose nuzzling against Derek’s neck.

“Me too,” he says quietly and Derek tips his head up to kiss him, trying to pour all of his feelings into the kiss.

_I love you._

_Please don’t leave me._

_Please be okay with this._

_Please don’t think I’m a freak._

_Please don’t hate me._

_Please_.

When he guides Stiles to the dining table, his boyfriend lets out a low whistle and Derek’s wolf preens, clearly taking a break from freaking out in favor of soaking in the praise of being an excellent mate.

Well.

Derek’s wolf is clearly disregarding all the communication and cowardice issues that aren’t exactly making Derek excellent mate material right now, but Derek figures that’s okay, seeing how he’s already beating himself up enough for both of them.

He’s made appetizers, sautéed vegetables, meatloaf, salad, and even a peanut butter chocolate pie from scratch, because he knows that Stiles will love it.

Dinner, desert, and a pregnancy announcement.

It’s almost ridiculously domestic, given that there’s nothing even remotely normal about the situation.

Stiles talks about some new television show as they eat and Derek is happy to let him ramble on, trying to pay attention even as he can’t stop worrying about what’s going to happen after dinner.

He’s about to unleash an Unholy Trinity of Revelation on his boyfriend, and Derek’s actually pretty sure that Stiles is going to handle the werewolf part just fine.

He also fairly confident that, after lots of flailing and possibly a million questions, his boyfriend will be able to deal with the reality of not only dating a werewolf but a pregnant one to boot. 

The possibility that it might not be _his_ baby though – Derek has no idea how he’ll react to that part of the equation, and the tightness in his belly turns into an actual ache the more he thinks about it.

Not that he’s having a bellyache, exactly.

It’s maybe a bit early, still, but Derek’s spent enough time obsessing over pregnancy symptoms and how to hide them that he’s pretty sure the tightness in his belly is his first and incredibly inconvenient bout of Braxton hicks.

He soldiers on, though, forces down his dinner and even manages a little bit of cake before admitting defeat.

The little frown on Stiles’ forehead is back, though, and when he turns to Derek after they’ve relocated to the couch, his expression is grim and also a little bit resigned.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks him and Derek nods, because opening the conversation with a lecture on practice contractions is probably not the best course of action here.

Stiles sighs heavily and his frown starts looking a little angry again.

“Derek. You’ve been having stomach cramps ever since I got here. I thought we were going to stop doing the thing where we lie about everything being good.”

“It’s not stomach cramps,” Derek says quickly, even though they technically are.

Because his body is a sadist, his abdomen contracts right at that second.

Derek winces, his hands dropping to his belly on instinct.

Stiles follows suit and then he lets out an alarmed hiss, his eyes panicked when he looks up at Derek.

“Shit! Do you even realize how hard your stomach is? That isn’t indigestion, that’s like – appendicitis level of tight! Shit! I think we need to get you to the ER!”

He places both hands on Derek’s stomach, cradling it protectively as if he could drain the pain away.

It’s…too much.

Too wolfish.

Too much like pack.

Too much like _mate_.

The contraction isn’t actually all that painful, but Derek’s suddenly more aware of his pregnancy than he’s ever been before and he can’t help but imagine Stiles holding him through a _real_ contraction.

The combination of it all is just...too much.

Derek doesn’t even realize he’s gone into partial Beta shift, not until the fingers on top of Stiles’ are suddenly sprouting claws and Stiles yanks his hands away with a loud yelp.

“Holy…!”

Stiles’ voice abruptly cuts off when he gets a look at Derek’s face, shocked amber meeting panicked gold.

“Holy. Shit. Holy shit! Holy fucking shit, what the fuck, holy fucking fuckity shit, what the hell, shit, holy …”

Stiles jumps up and backs a couple of steps away, babbling on and blaspheming more deities under the sun than Derek’s ever heard of.

Derek tries to stay very still, even though all his instincts are telling him to jump up and get to his mate, to make sure he isn’t going to run away and abandon them forever.

“Stiles,” he exclaims desperately, voice a little muffled by his fangs, and Stiles lets out a whimper, sounding confused, afraid, and helpless all at once.

“Stiles!” Derek tries again, holding up his hands and then wrenching them down again when he realizes he’s presenting his claws in all their glory.

“Stiles! Stiles, please! I can explain!”

He must sound as desperate as he feels, because Stiles actually stops moving, going stiller than Derek’s ever seen him.

“Uh … okay?”

His voice is shaking, as if he isn’t quite sure he’s dreaming, and Derek decides to make it quick, like ripping off a band aid.

“I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles…stares.

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Stares some more.

“A…werewolf,” Stiles finally manages, staring at Derek like he’s never seen him before.

“Werewolf. Wolfman. Man-wolf. Lycanthrope. Shapeshifter. Lamia. Loup-garou. Skinwalker. Creature of the night. Howls at the moon. Dances with wolves. No wait… _I’m_ the one who dances with wolves!”

Stiles’ eyes widen almost comically and Derek swallows heavily, not even remotely sure how to respond.

Stiles keeps staring at him, his gaze rapidly flitting back and forth between Derek’s hands and his face.

The realization that he’s _still_ in partial Beta shift hits Derek from one second to the other and he hastily closes his eyes, chastising himself as he pulls the wolf back in.

When he opens his eyes again, Stiles’ shocked expression has switched to hesitant fascination, his eyes still wide but very much intrigued.

“Werewolf,” Stiles says again, sounding gob smacked but no longer quite as frantic.

“Yeah. Werewolf.”

“Holy shit,” Stiles states matter of factly and Derek startles when Stiles suddenly plops back down onto the sofa, shaking his head like he’s still not sure he isn’t dreaming.

“Wow. I mean… _wow_! Of all the things I thought I never…wow. Just…wow!”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and really, the eloquence in the room is bordering on Pulitzer Prize territory.

Stiles seems to share the sentiment because he lets out a soft laugh, sinking back into the cushions and rubbing a hand across his face.

“Wow. I…honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Please don’t hate me!”

It’s too raw, too soon, and Derek wants to brain himself for messing this up already, hiding his face behind his hands because he really doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“What the… _Jesus_! Derek! Hey! Look at me!”

Derek looks at him and Stiles’ expression is almost painfully earnest, even though he still smells seconds away from a freak-out. 

“I’m not…I’m not going to run and get the torches and the pitchforks, dude! It’s just … holy fucking shit, dude, I’m dating an actual _werewolf_!”

He runs his hands through his hair in agitation, staring at Derek with eyes as wide as saucers.

“I mean, I’ve wondered how you can even be real, sure, but this is like…this is another dimension of unreal! Seriously! _How_ are you real?”

Derek inhales sharply and Stiles instantly holds up his hands.

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s…wait…you _are_ real, right? This isn’t some great cosplay prank, is it?”

Derek laughs shakily and lets his eyes shift from hazel to gold once more, holding up his hand and carefully extending one claw, then pulling it back.

“I can smell that you had a burrito with chorizo for breakfast this morning. You were humming _Seasons of Love_ all the wayfrom the parking lot up to my apartment. It’s not a prank, Stiles. It’s just…me.”

“Holy shit!” Stiles whispers and for a moment they just stare at each other, wide-eyed and holding their breaths.

Then, Stiles barks out a sharp laugh, rubbing his hands across his face with a groan.

“Oh god. This is _not_ how I was expecting this evening to go at all!”

Derek freezes when Stiles takes one of his hands in his, running a finger across the tips of Derek’s blunt nails.

“Can you…can you show me again?”

Derek slowly extends his claws again and Stiles touches them hesitantly, holding Derek’s hand up against the light as if to check they’re actually real.

“Holy shit! You’re definitely real! Can you do more?”

Derek was hoping for this, but the speed with which his boyfriend switches gears from fear to fascination still gives him emotional whiplash.

“I…uh…the eyes. I have fangs, too, but…it’s not…it’s not very pretty. The full shift, I mean. I look…”

“Can I see?”

Stiles is still holding Derek’s hand, squeezing it tightly despite the claws, and Derek gives in, allows the full Beta shift to take over for the first time in …

“ _Wow_!” Stiles breathes, just as Derek realizes that he hasn’t shifted into his full Beta form in months.

“Your eyes,” Stiles whispers, almost reverently, and for a moment Derek forgets to breathe entirely, his pulse thrumming as he sees the purple in the reflection of Stiles’ own eyes.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, given his condition, but it’s still startling to see his purple eyes even though the full moon is almost two weeks away.

_The breeders are the rarest among the he-wolves. Their eyes shine gold by day and bright and purple under the fullness of the mother moon. Once they’ve chosen a mate and have been bred, their full shift will also reveal the mother moon’s blessing to all the other midnight skies._

At thirteen, Derek had rolled his eyes at Deaton’s dramatic declaration of the old texts, and Laura and Cora had giggled and made dumb jokes about Derek being bred _and_ buttered until Talia had made them stop.

Now, though, the reflection of his purple eyes is both thrilling and terrifying, a testament to the strong and healthy cub under Derek’s heart – and a reminder that he’s not yet done with changing Stiles’ world.

“You’re beautiful,” Stiles says softly, and Derek lets out a sharp gasp when his boyfriend’s fingers gently trace the ridges of his forehead, following the arc where his eyebrows should be and trailing down the ridges of his nose.

“Do you…I’m guessing you’re not going to eat me on the full moon, are you?”

Derek can’t help but snort.

“Of course not. This isn’t Red Riding Hood or the Wolf and the Seven Young Goats.”

Stiles laughs, too, his eyes trailing down to Derek’s belly before snapping back up.

“So I’m guessing I’m not going to turn into a werewolf if you bite me, either? You _did_ bite my butt that first week, you know.”

He’s playing for laughs, but Derek can hear the uptick of his heartbeat and smell the short burst of panic clear as day.

“No! Only Alphas can turn a human into a werewolf. I’m a Beta, I could bite you all day long and you’d only have the bruises to show for it. Also … no respectable werewolf would ever turn a human by biting them…there.”

Stiles laughs, looking infinitely relieved and Derek laughs, too, because this is actually going…well.

Far better than he expected, even.

“Thank god!” Stiles grins weakly, though his smile fades when he looks at Derek once more.

“Seriously. Thank god. I thought…after last night I wasn’t sure if...I was afraid you were going to tell me you needed space.”

“No!” Derek says immediately, because it is absolutely one hundred percent the last thing he wants in the world.

When Stiles smiles again, it looks a lot less forced.

“I guess I thought…I don’t know what I thought. This actually makes a lot of sense though. If I’d been trying to hide that I was a werewolf, I think I would have acted really weird, too.”

He smiles at Derek and Derek tries to smile back.

He does.

He can’t, though, because his belly is hardening again, and he’s almost painfully reminded that he isn’t done sharing his secrets yet.

His hands drop to his stomach once more, trying to massage the tightness away, and Stiles’ gaze follows the motions of his hand with a worried frown.

“You’re still in pain,” he observes, his hand once again joining Derek’s.

“Seriously though, your stomach is feeling really, really hard. Can werewolves get appendicitis? Wait, can werewolves even go to the doctor?”

“It’s not appendicitis,” Derek says, cursing his damn hormones when his eyes start tearing up at the sight of Stiles cradling his bump so carefully yet again.

“And I couldn’t go to the doctor. Not for this.”

“So this is a werewolf thing?” Stiles asks, looking up at Derek a little skeptically.

“You mean like fangs, claws, get growly on the full moon, and random stomach aches just for the fun of it? I don’t think I remember that part from the movies.”

Derek lets out a shaky laugh, cursing himself when a tear rolls down his cheek.

“I doubt they’d ever make a werewolf movie about _this_ ,” he mutters.

“Whoa, Derek,” Stiles says worriedly, his hands leaving Derek’s stomach to cup his face.

“Derek? What’s wrong? I’m not leaving you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you. Like – ever! I love you! And sure, it’s going to take some time to get used to this, and I’m probably going to ask you a thousand questions more before the weekend is up, but I’m not going anywhere. I promise!”

He’s serious, too, his heartbeat steady and reassuring, and Derek wants to believe it so badly, but he can’t, because Stiles can’t make promises before knowing everything.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“You’re right. It’s a werewolf thing. It’s really rare, but it’s...I’m…I’m carrying…I’m expecting …”

His throat is tight with fear, pushing down the words he so desperately does and doesn’t want to say.

“You’re not trying to tell me you’re _pregnant,_ are you?”

Stiles’ hands are back on his belly, his voice concerned even though he’s obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it’s kind of starting to look a little like you are, but…shit, wait, I wasn’t trying to say that …it looks good on you, it’s… alright whoa! Derek? Are you even breathing right now? Shit, I didn’t…shit, Derek!”

“Yeah.”

Derek’s voice is little more than a croak, the word punching out of him in a gasp.

Stiles freezes, his hand stilling on Derek’ stomach as he looks at him in disbelief.

“What was that?”

“I…yeah. I am. Pregnant. I’m pregnant, Stiles.”

Stiles jerks his hands away as though Derek’s belly had turned into molten lava and for a long, painfully anxious moment, Stiles doesn’t say anything.

Derek barrels on, the words flowing out of him now that he’s _finally_ managed to say it out loud.

“It’s really rare! The kind of rare that occurs only once in a couple of generations. I’m what they call a breeder-wolf. A rare kind of werewolf that can get pregnant even though they’re male. It’s a moon magic thing, I think. I don’t understand it myself, I just know that I can and that I...that I am. Pregnant, that is. I’m sorry! I didn’t want...I never thought I’d...I didn’t do this on purpose! It just...it just happened.”

He clamps his lips shut, staring at Stiles with wide yes and his heart sinking when his boyfriend stays completely silent.

“Stiles? Say something. _Please_.”

“Huh!”

Stiles’ eyes are narrowing, shaking his head as if he’s trying to wake himself up.

“Huh. _Huh_!”

Derek covers his belly on instinct, not because he’s scared of Stiles but because he cannot read him at all right now, his chem signals all over the place and his face too stunned to give anything away.

“Pregnant. You’re…pregnant. Ho.ly. _shit_!”

“Yep,” Derek says miserably and Stiles _jerks,_ his eyes going wide again and brimming with determination.

“Alright! Whew. Okay. Alright. Yeah. Okay. Breeder-wolf. Pregnant. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Yeah!”

He shakes his head again, tugging at his hair for a second, then dropping his hands into his lap and pressing them together.

“Okay. Now _that_ really explains a lot!”

He’s silent again, his eyes flitting rapidly back and forth between Derek’s face and stomach and the gears almost visibly turning in his head.

“Is it…a baby?”

“What else would it be?” Derek snaps, instantly feeling bad about his tone when Stiles’ eyes narrow again. 

“Well excuse me for asking, it’s not like I just found out I got my male boyfriend pregnant or anything!” Stiles snaps back, slapping his hands over his mouth instantly.

“Shit. Sorry. I…yeah no, I have no clue what to say.”

He’s staring at Derek’s stomach again, his hands twitching in his lap.

“Can I? Please?”

 _Mate!_ the wolf whines inside of Derek and Derek drops his hands, trusting its instincts even though his human half is once again very close to running away.

Stiles holds eye-contact with him as he slowly pulls up Derek’s sweater and Derek shivers, this skin breaking out in goosebumps when Stiles touches his belly with gentle fingers.

“Yeah. This is all starting to make sense now,” he mutters, even though he sounds like he’s pretty sure he’s about to go insane.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I never meant for this to happen.”

Stiles’ eyes snap up to meet his and for the first time he looks genuinely pissed. 

“Yeah, no! This really isn’t all on you! Pretty sure this is not the immaculate conception, dude! But…how! We were careful, weren’t we? I mean, we haven’t had sex without a condom _once_ and I’ve been practicing how to use them since I was thirteen, how could we have…wait…just how far along are you because you’re like…you’re quite pregnant already, aren’t you?”

“Seventeen weeks,” Derek whispers, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Stiles exhales, his breath punching out of him as he shakes his head and stares at Derek in disbelief.

“You mean we made this baby right out of the gate? Holy shit!”

He shakes his head again, his laughter maybe a little panicky but not nearly as distressed as he smelled just moments ago.

_Like a band-aid. Just like a band-aid._

“It might not be yours!”

Stiles stills and Derek does, too, because this is it.

The wild card.

The one reaction he hasn’t been able to predict.

Stiles’ hands have gone lax on his belly and if Derek wasn’t a werewolf he would worry if his boyfriend was even breathing at all, his whole body gone stiff like a statue and his eyes a blank canvas.

“I didn’t cheat on you! I’d never cheat on you! It’s just…the night before we met…on that last night in Paris…there was a guy. Just the once. I don’t even know his full name. We used protection, but I don’t…something must have gone wrong. And I don’t know if it was with you or with…with him.”

Stiles still isn’t saying anything and Derek barrels on, desperation creeping into his voice.

“I never meant for any of this to happen! Stiles, I swear, I never meant to do this to you, I don’t...I want it to be yours! I’ve been afraid to tell you because I didn’t know what you’d do if you knew that...I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Say something. _Please_! _Say something!_ ”

Stiles’ mouth works but no sounds come out and Derek suddenly realized that his boyfriend isn’t actually silent at all.

His heart does his talking for him instead, the normally steady thrum now thumping rapidly and irregularly, like a horde of stampeding horses trying to escape from danger.

“Stiles? Please?”

He’s begging, but Stiles remains silent, his eyes filled with an expression that Derek can’t read at all.

“Stiles?”

Stiles’ mouth twitches.

Derek holds his breath, steeling himself for his answer.

Stiles swallows.

Then, Stiles squares his shoulders, looking straight at Derek, and there’s a fire in his eyes that burns him straight to his core.

“Oh my god, Derek! I can’t …”

Derek doesn’t wait to hear the rest.

He’s grabbed his keys and is out the door before Stiles can so much as blink, let alone finish his sentence.

He thinks he hears a startled exclamation of his name.

Then again, it might just be sound of his heart breaking apart.

================

_I can’t do this._

_I can’t stay with you._

_I can’t believe you did this to me._

_I can’t stand the sight of you._

_I can’t accept this._

_I can’t love this baby._

_I can’t love you anymore._

The Braxton hicks stop somewhere between his apartment and the city limits of Los Angeles, but Derek barely notices.

Stiles’ voice is ringing in his head and Derek can barely see the road through his tears, his wolf whining at him and urging him to go _home_.

It’s almost three in the morning by the time Derek finally pulls up in front of his parents’ house and when he stumbles out of the car, he has to grip the door to steady himself, his legs trembling in exhaustion and his chest tight with his grief.

He takes multiple deep breaths and then heads towards the front porch, feeling like he weighs a ton with each step, crushed down by a secret he’s kept for far too long.

The wolf inside him is howling for its Alpha and the man inside him is crying for his mother and when Talia throws open the door before he can even knock, Derek doesn’t hesitate, just throws himself into her arms with a loud sob.

His mother’s hair is tussled but she’s wide awake, her eye burning red as she holds him tight, a steady anchor against the stormy sea that has been threatening to pull Derek under ever since he fled his own apartment.

There’s movement in the house, doors banging open and feet trampling down the stairs, his family’s love and concern flooding him through the pack bond.

Laura still hasn’t found a new place to live after her break-up and Cora just got back from college for the summer, so his entire family is home right now, bearing witness to Derek’s shame.

“Mom!” Derek repeats, letting out one strangled breath after the other as more tears run down his cheeks.

“Derek, my little bear, what happened?”

He’s sitting on the couch in the living room now, though Derek doesn’t even remember moving, and Talia’s still holding him close, her voice soft and filled with concern.

His father’s gentle hands are carding through his hair and he can tell that Laura and Cora are hovering right behind him, both of them smelling upset and helpless.

“Derek?”

There’s rustling as Peter crouches down in front of Derek, and when his uncle lets out a sharp breath, Derek knows he’s figured it out.

“Who do I need to kill?”

Peter’s voice is steel, his chem signals transmitting such fury that it makes Derek’s head spin.

When he manages to look at him, his uncle’s clawed hands are balled into fists, his golden eyes fixed on Derek’s middle.

“Derek, listen to me! If someone did this to you against your will or left you like this, I will hunt them down and I will rip off their dick and claw out their balls and then I will feed them to them just before I’ll tear their throat out with my teeth!”

“ _What_ is he talking about?” Cora asks but Derek doesn’t answer her.

Instead, he looks at his mother, tears once again rolling down his cheeks as he cups his belly with both hands. 

“Mom!” he croaks, and he can tell the exact moment his mother realizes.

The breath punches out of her and in the two seconds it takes her to pull her composed Alpha mask back on Derek sees a myriad of emotions in her eyes, encompassing everything from anger to shock to unconditional love.

“Talk to me.”

There’s no actual command in her voice, but Derek’s already laid bare, all of his defenses shattered and gone.

He talks for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is, as usual, a failwolf!work in progress. Luckily for him, Stiles isn't going to let him get away with it. 
> 
> Next Update: Probably Sunday. Monday at the latest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, my lovelies! I hope you're all having a great weekend!

It’s 7:00 AM on Sunday and Talia Hale is having a shitty morning.

She’s got a brother whose howls she can still hear in the distance, even though he went running to blow off some steam more than two hours ago.

She’s got a worried and distracted husband puttering around in the kitchen, sighing really loudly every two minutes and burning the coffee.

She’s got one sleep-deprived daughter picking at runny eggs and slightly burnt sausage with an expression like she’s contemplating murder and another sleep-deprived daughter glaring at her empty coffee mug like she can find the solution to Derek’s woes in there. 

Worst of all, she’s got a pregnant son passed out in her and her husband’s bed because that was the only way he’d finally fallen asleep two hours ago, surrounded by the scent of pack in his time of distress.

He’s whimpering in his sleep even now and Talia can only imagine the nightmares that must be haunting him, feels his heartache over losing the man he loves festering in the pack bond like a gaping wound.

In fact, each distressed sound feels like a stab through her own heart, driving home her failure as an Alpha and mother.

As an Alpha, because she should have noticed her little wolf was in distress much earlier, long distances be damned.

As a mother, because her son didn’t feel he could confide in her, driven by fear, worry, and shame.

So yes, Talia Hale is having an _incredibly_ shitty morning.

Also, her hair is flat.

It’s not her most pressing concern, but it gives her something to think about that doesn’t make her heart twist and her claws pop.

Her husband sits down next to her with a heavy sigh, his greying hair askew and his hazel eyes behind his glasses red-rimmed from lack of sleep.

Talia holds out one hand and grasps her husband’s hand tightly, needing to anchor herself after spending all night trying and failing to anchor her heartbroken only son.

A moment later, she feels rather than hears Peter returning to the house, his anger still thrumming through the pack bond.

“Peter!” she says quietly but authoritatively, putting just enough Alpha-umph into the name to force him to cool down a little.

She’s moved to see that her little brother has her son’s back, but she doesn’t want his anger to disturb Derek’s sleep, now that he’s finally getting the rest he so desperately needs.

Peter still looks like he’s plotting murder when he marches into the kitchen, a couple of leaves stuck in his hair and specs of dirt stuck under his fingernails.

Full wolf shift, then.

Yep, he’s really fucking pissed.

Talia can’t blame him for it though, given that her thoughts about the infamous _Stiles_ are getting more and more vicious by the second.

“You realize that I saw this coming, yes?” Peter growls, plopping down at the table and stealing a piece of sausage from Laura’s plate when she isn’t looking.

“Do you remember what I said to you after Alan had finished his enigmatic little presentation about breeders and rainbows and unicorns?”

“Peter, please,” Talia sighs, but Peter shakes his head, his eyes flashing gold as he shakes his head.

“I _told you_. I fucking told you this was all going to end in heartache!”

Talia sighs again, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head.

“Yes, well, I’m pretty sure your dire predictions had more to do with him getting kidnapped by wild Omegas or deranged hunters and not so much the possibility of a human breaking his heart.”

“It was heavily implied!” Peter snaps, slapping a hand on the table and flinching when Talia flashes her eyes at him.

“Enough! Derek’s finally sleeping!” Talia hisses and Peter looks down at the table with a heavy frown, his scent a heavy mixture of anger, worry, and sadness.

Talia sighs again, racking her brain to figure out how to start reassuring her upset pack without really knowing how.

She takes a deep breath, opens her mouth – and abruptly closes it again when the sound of an unfamiliar engine starts heading down the road of the house.

Across the table, Peter tenses, too, his eyes already flashing and his eyebrows narrowing dangerously as the car comes close enough for Talia’s Alpha hearing to pick up a wild, erratic heartbeat beneath the thrum.

A very upset, very anxious, and very human heartbeat.

When the car turns off and the sound of the engine fades away, so does Peter.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Peter’s off the table and at the door a moment later.

Luckily, Talia is faster.

“Wait!” she commands, huffing in annoyance when Cora and Laura knock against her shoulders in their attempt to see through the window next to the door as well.

Outside, the door of the blue jeep opens and a guy stumbles out, looking furiously determined and also like he’s pulled at his hair during the entire drive from Los Angeles up to Beacon Hills.

“I’ll end him,” Peter reiterates, just in case his growling isn’t obvious enough, and Talia shushes him, even though she can’t quite fault him for the sentiment.

The guy – _Stiles_ – looks even more tired than Talia’s feeling and she doesn’t have to smell him to sense the misery radiating off of him in waves.

Under normal circumstances, she’d probably feel sympathetic.

However, she also currently has a fresh memory of her only son stroking his belly with tears in his eyes and telling her the baby would be better off with a father who isn’t such a mess, so really, her son’s boyfriend can shove his misery up his …

The doorbell rings.

Talia takes a deep breath and then wrenches the door open, her eyes blazing red and the tongue-lashing of the century ready on her lips.

Stiles beats her to it.

“Alright, where is the damn _idiot_?!”

“…uh?”

“Is he here? Did he make it okay? Please tell me he didn’t have an accident! I’m going to be so fucking furious if he went and ended up in a ditch just because he couldn’t wait _one_ second to actually _let me finish my damn sentence_!”

“Uhm…”

It’s safe to say that Talia’s a little flabbergasted.

Beside her, Peter growls threateningly and Stiles whirls towards him, looking almost painfully unimpressed.

“Oh _spare me_! The apparently man-pregnant love of my life just dropped one hell of a furry revelation on me and then ran away instead of actually giving me time to process all of it, so your growly face _really_ isn’t the most intimidating thing that has happened to me lately!”

Peter stops growling abruptly, his mouth snapping shut and his teeth clicking as his eyebrows fly up his forehead.

Stiles scoffs and turns back to Talia, his scent flooding with worry as his glare loses some of its heat.

“Seriously, is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“He’s fine.”

Stiles almost sags in on himself in relief, letting out a shaky “Thank god!” and rubbing at his face.

“He’s _resting_ ,” Talia adds firmly, trying to lower her voice because Stiles has been getting louder with every word and she really doesn’t want Derek to be disturbed right now.

It’s the wrong course of action, clearly, because the anger is right back in Stiles’ scent, his shoulders tense and his eyes narrowing as he glares right back at her.

“Good! He should be! Actually, he should be at home, with me, and we should be _talking_ about all of this, but nooooooo, he just fucking ran out on me! He just ran and then drove up here for six hours in the middle of the night! Who does that? A ridiculous secret-keeping werewolf, that’s who! Fuck my life, dude, just…fuck!”

This time, Talia’s the one who can’t keep in her growl and Stiles freezes, looking at her cautiously.

“Uh…sorry I called you dude? I guess that’s no way to treat the...Alpha? You’re the Alpha, right? Your eyes are different than Derek’s. Actually, all of you guys’ eyes are different? Aren’t you Betas? Sorry, I don’t know anything about this. No, wait! Actually, I’m _not_ sorry I don’t know anything, because _someone_ just ran out on me instead of…”

“ _Stiles_?!”

Derek’s standing in the hallway, looking, if possible, even rougher than he did when he finally fell asleep, his hair mussed, dark shadows under his eyes, and his expression so heartbreakingly terrified and _hopeful_ that Talia can barely stand it.

“Stiles! What…what are you doing here?”

Stiles shakes his head, looking at him in disbelief.

“What am I…I’m running after you, of course! What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t make sure my baby-momma…uh…baby-wolfman are doing okay?”

He brushes past Talia, ignoring Peter’s alarmed growl and Laura’s threatening hiss as he makes a beeline for Derek, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“Are you okay? You _scared_ me, Derek! Don't ever pull that kind of shit again, that was...I thought you'd...please tell me you’re okay! Is the baby okay? Are both of you okay? Are you…”

“We’re fine,” Derek whispers, looking at Stiles with wide eyes.

“Stiles…I…you…you came after me!”

“ _Duh_!” Stiles exclaims exasperatedly, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Derek a truly exasperated look.

“Next time, can you at least tell me where you’re going though? I mean, I figured that a panicking werewolf would go seek out their Alpha, so it was pretty obvious you came up here, but still! Not cool! Not cool at all!”

“I...but...but you said...you said that you can’t do this! You said you can’t accept this and…and that you can’t be with me anymore!”

Stiles takes a step back as if slapped, his expression of shock quickly morphing into righteous outrage.

“I _what_? When did I say _any of that?_ ”

Derek gapes at Stiles.

“Uh…”

His eyes dart to Talia and it takes all of her willpower to suppress an exasperated sigh.

She _knows_ that expression on his face.

Beside her, Sebastian lets out a resigned groan, and Talia knows that he, too, is remembering that one time in first grade, when their son came home in tears because his beloved teacher had read the tale of Red Riding Hood to the class and he’d thought she wouldn’t like him because he was going to grow up into a _nana-eating_ big bad wolf.

That one time in third grade, when little Paige Krasikeva had tried to give him a purple flower for Valentines’ day and Derek had thought she was a hunter and was trying to kill him, because he’d recently overheard Peter and Talia talking about the Calaveras.

Or that one time in sixth grade, when her pop culture-challenged baby-boy had overheard his friends in school talking about how dorky _Teen Wolf_ was and had spent an entire week quietly freaking out because he’d thought they’d figured out his secret.

Yes, Talia knows that look _very_ well.

It’s his _Mom, help, I think there’s been a misunderstanding_ expression and Talia loves her son dearly, she does, but she’s a little too tired and a little too bewildered to fix the problem for him this time.

Stiles clears his throat expectantly and when Derek just keeps gaping at him, he lets out a huge sigh, stepping forward and cradling Derek’s face in his hands with a gentleness that belies the anger-sour notes in his scent.

“You dumbass,” he says softly, sounding a lot exasperated and even more in love.

“Derek. If you’d actually given me time to finish my sentence, you would have heard me say that I can’t believe you thought this would matter to me!”

Derek’s breath hitches and Talia almost slumps in relief, the steady thrum of Stiles’ heartbeat the most blessed sound she’s ever heard and the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time since she woke up to the sound of Derek’s choked sobs as he pulled into the driveway a couple of hours earlier.

“But...what if the baby isn’t yours?” Derek gets out, letting out a whine that sounds like it’s been punched out of him when Stiles presses their foreheads together and firmly repeats, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

When they pull apart, Stiles’ eyes flicker down to Derek’s belly, which he’s been holding with both hands ever since he came downstairs.

No.

Not holding.

Shielding.

Stiles clearly thinks so, too, because he lets out a soft sigh and cradles the soft swell with two large, gentle hands, placing them just below Derek’s so he can reach up and stroke the back of his hands with his thumbs.

“Derek. I love you. I’m really ticked off that you just ran instead of listening to me, but I also really fucking love you, so there’s that. I’m also going to love our baby. _Our_ baby. Because no matter what happens, that’s what this little munchkin in here will be. If you’ll have me.”

Derek lets out another hitched breath.

Then, he burrows his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck and clings to him like a lifeline, which Talia figures is probably answer enough.

Beside her, her husband clears his throat.

“Alright then. Now. The two of you need to get some sleep before you both pass out right here in this hallway. You can talk more about this later. Right now, you need to sleep. Both of you.”

“But...”

“Derek Severin Hale,” Sebastian says firmly, and Derek’s protestations die on his lips, followed by a shaky yawn that he rather unsuccessfully tries to hide by dropping his head onto Stiles’ shoulder again.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and points towards the stairs, and Stiles ears himself a number of brownie points with Talia when he nods immediately and wraps his arm around Derek’s waist to steady him.

It’s not necessary, probably, but Talia’s baby-boy is pregnant and seeing his mate take care of him like this is just what the doctor ordered to soothe her rather frazzled momma-heart.

Huh.

_Mate._

She blinks rapidly, feeling a little stunned because it’s quite frankly a startling thought to have about a man she was recently prepared to castrate in defense of her cub’s honor.

Not to mention that she’s really tired and still very worried and it’s really just a lot to take in for 7:30 AM on a Sunday.

Also, she’s going to be a grandma.

Her baby-boy is having a _baby_.

There’s a nudge against her shoulder.

“Looking good, _Granny_ ,” Peter says, his eyes still gold but a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Talia growls, wiping at her wet eyes.

“Damn right I do,” she confirms, laughing softly and shaking her head.

Peter’s smile widens and there’s a burst of affection through the pack bond, tinged with just a hint of caution.

“Mark my words though. If that boy hurts our little bear, I _will_ rip off his dick. I’m watching him!”

Talia cocks her head, smiling when she hears Derek mutter upstairs.

A moment later, a startled squawk rings through the house and Peter looks decidedly too proud of himself.

Talia sighs.

It’s going to be a long day.

==============

It’s almost three in the afternoon when Stiles blinks his eyes open.

He stares at an unfamiliar ceiling, feeling disoriented for a second.

There’s a soft snore right next to his ear and a warm body snuggling against his side and Stiles turns, smiling fondly at Derek’s ridiculous bedhead.

Then, awareness comes crashing back to him and his eyes fly wide open, a shocked gasp punching out of him.

Werewolf.

Pregnant Werewolf.

 _Man_ -pregnant Werewolf.

A really big misunderstanding.

Also, he’s pretty sure he called Derek’s mother _dude_.

“Oh god,” he mutters, shaking his head because everything still seems so unbelievable to him.

Twenty-four hours ago, he was a young detective looking forward to seeing his boyfriend, enjoying a nice dinner, and maybe getting some Netflix and chill.

Now, he’s got a pregnant werewolf in his bed, he’s going to be a daddy, and his in-laws have claws and intentions to rid him off his genitals.

What a time to be alive.

Derek lets out another soft snore, snuggling closer to Stiles and pressing his little baby-bump against his side.

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat.

Baby.

They’re going to have an actual baby.

It’s…a lot.

Maybe too much.

Probably too much, given that Stiles doesn’t just have a pregnant boyfriend but also recently fell down the rabbit hole.

He turns on his side so he can look his fill, reaching out and trailing his fingers across the curve of Derek’s belly.

Derek stops snoring.

Stiles waits and eventually Derek’s palm covers his own.

They look at each other, hazel meeting amber, and nobody says anything for a while.

Eventually, Derek sighs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run like that.”

Stiles sighs, too, his fingers gently trailing across the swell of Derek’s belly as he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. That was a little messed up, to be honest. It’s not that I don’t get it, honestly. The werewolf thing in itself is already big enough, but sitting on a magical male pregnancy secret _and_ the whole paternity question mark, too? My nerves would have been shot to hell as well.”

He sighs again, reaching up to cradle Derek’s cheek.

“You can’t pull a stunt like that again, Derek. Do you realize how many traffic accidents I’ve responded to over the past decade? You were so damn upset, I really thought...all the way up here, I thought that...don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” Derek says shakily, turning his head to press soft, apologetic kisses into Stiles’ palm.

“I won’t, Stiles. I promise.”

“For the record, I’m sorry, too. I could see how fucking scared you were, and I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that.”

He clears his throat, his hand dropping down to Derek’s stomach once more.

“I mean it, though. The paternity thing doesn’t matter to me.”

Derek frowns, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he stares at him intently.

“Why? How can you be okay with this?”

Stiles frowns, too.

“Why? I told you. I love you.”

“Yeah but…”

Derek swallows heavily, looking a little pained.

“It’s just...we’ve only been dating for five months, Stiles. This is a lot for five months and it’s just...are you really sure?”

Stiles looks down at Derek’s belly thoughtfully, taking in the sight of both of their hands protectively cradling Derek’s little bump.

He shrugs.

“You know … I obviously didn’t think we’d be talking about kids _quite_ this soon, but it’s not like I ever actually thought we’d have a biological child one day in the first place. We _are_ two men, after all.”

He shrugs again, letting out a soft little laugh. 

“I’m not saying I was already making plans, or anything like that, I’m not _that_ gone on you. That was a lie, by the way, I was _definitely_ already making plans to go down the road of surrogacy with you in about three to five years. But even so, I was obviously planning to use your sperm for that, so it wouldn’t have been my biological child either.”

“...obviously?”

Stiles chuckles softly, shaking his head with a little smile.

“Have you _seen_ your cheekbones? We definitely would have gone with your sperm!”

Derek’s frown deepens and Stiles’ smile widens.

“Anyway. I would have loved that baby to the moon and back and I’ll do the same for this one. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to do this with you.”

Derek’s breath hitches and he gives Stiles a long, searching gaze, his eyes wide and still far too scared for Stiles’ liking.

“Hey,” he says softly, gently caressing Derek’s cheek.

“Talk to me.”

Derek bites his lips, looking conflicted.

“It’s just…we’ve only been dating for a little over four months and the werewolf thing is already big enough, but a pregnancy? You didn’t sign up for any of this and if you wanted to leave, I would understand.”

Stiles scoffs.

“Well. I’m glad _you_ ’d understand. I wouldn’t. Besides, do you really think I’d be the type of guy who’d leave a girl if I got her pregnant?”

Derek startles.

“What? No! Of course not!”

Stiles huffs, looking at him exasperatedly.

“Exactly! So why should I want to leave you?”

“But…it’s really not an ideal situation, and…”

“Derek,” Stiles says firmly, pushing himself up on his elbows and motioning to follow suit.

When they’re both sitting, Stiles takes Derek’s hand and squeezes tightly, giving him a sad smile and clearing his throat.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. It’s not an ideal situation. You know what also wasn’t an ideal situation? When my Jewish father got my mother pregnant out of wedlock on their third date and her super Catholic family flipped their casually anti-semitic shit, kicked my mom out, and wouldn’t even let her set one foot into their home until my parents had gotten married. Then, they spent the next six months re-enacting the Spanish Inquisition and since they couldn’t officially expel my father from the country, they harassed him until he agreed to name me after at least three popes. To this day, I can’t go to the DMV without getting laughed at because I can’t fit my name into any of the forms! _That’s_ not an ideal situation.”

He shakes his head, flashing Derek a little half-smile.

“Not to mention that my father got so fed up with all the nonsense that he went out of his way to only choose popes who fathered illegitimate children or popes who were known to have sexual exploits with men. I guess there are worse names than Mieczysław Julius Gregory Sixtus Stilinski, but I still can’t fit it on any of the damn forms!”

“Mie…what?”

Stiles winks, giving his hand another squeeze.

“I was going to tell you my real name on our fifth anniversary, but I can’t well have a baby with someone who doesn’t know my real name, can I?”

He sobers, taking a deep breath.

“The point I’m trying to make is this. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little freaked. Obviously, this is going to take some time to get used to. I still love you though. And I’m going to love the little guy just as much. Even if he comes out with a bushy tail and tiny fangs and claws.”

Derek’s little laugh is paper-thin and Stiles smiles, leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss.

It’s not like he’s an idiot.

He can tell that Derek’s still incredibly worried and it’ll probably take a thousand more kisses until he truly believes that Stiles is serious about this.

Luckily, Stiles can be very convincing indeed. 

===============

Stiles stays at Derek’s place for three days, both of them calling in sick to work as neither feels ready to drive back home to LA on Sunday evening.

It’s three days full of ups and downs, tensions and smiles, but also a lot of love, which each member of Derek’s family expresses in their very own way.

On Monday, Talia sits Stiles down and has a very long and firm talk with him, explaining the basics of werewolf instincts, pack life, and the importance of keeping their world a secret.

Peter joins them and spends the entire time cleaning his claws with a meaningful look, never breaking eye-contact with Stiles and growling every now and again to emphasize Talia’s point.

Derek kind of wants to throttle him a little, but Stiles takes the growling in stride, even asks multiple questions about things that Derek himself has never actually thought about.

He’s pale and silent by the end of the conversation, though, his heartbeat fast but steady as he swears that he’ll protect the pack just like he would his own father.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again! Both of you!” Stiles tells Derek later that night, one hand pressed against Derek’s heart and the other covering his stomach, forming a warm cocoon of safety and love that Derek wants to live in for the rest of his life.

“You realize that we’re the apex predators, yes?” Derek teases him gently, though he can’t help but feel touched that Stiles has been worrying about hunters for the better part of the day.

On Tuesday, Laura and Cora politely ask Stiles to join them for a little ‘chat’ behind the shed and Derek tries to glare them into their best behavior, though he’s afraid his glare has lost some bite when his sisters respond by cooing at him.

Granted, he’s propped up on the couch, munching on a white chocolate raspberry scone, and his mom is giving him a belly massage with herbal oils that she claims to be a secret Hale family recipe, but Derek still likes to think he’s at least a little intimidating.

Stiles returns from the ‘chat’ about forty minutes later, looking a little disturbed but with all his limbs and genitals in their usual places, and when Cora grumpily shares her salt and vinegar chips with him when they all sit down in the living room that night, Derek decides to count it as a win.

On Wednesday morning, Derek’s father makes them stuffed French toast with berry compote and then drives them out to the clinic, where Deaton is already expecting them with his best _I told you so_ expression.

Derek doesn’t stay grumpy about it for too long, however, because the wonder in Stiles’ eyes when he sees the baby for the first time is something that he knows he’ll treasure for the rest of his life.

He holds Derek’s hand through the examination and badgers Deaton with questions about what to expect when a werewolf’s expecting and Deaton looks positively thrilled, answering Stiles’ question about the birthing process in so much gruesome detail that Derek can’t help but wonder if their emissary is secretly a sadist on the side.

Stiles looks a little green around the gills but excited when they leave the clinic and Derek’s right there with him, not entirely looking forward to going through the painful process of growing a temporary birth canal but feeling comforted in the knowledge that Stiles will be at his side through it all. 

If, indeed, his boyfriend will be at his side, which Derek wants to believe so badly it actually hurts, though he can’t quite get the little voice of doubt in his head to shut up.

They leave Derek’s family just after lunch, after multiple assurances that they’ll be careful, and Derek feels like a ton is lifted from his shoulders when Stiles holds out his hand to his mom and says “Bye Mrs. Hale,” only for her to squeeze his shoulder and tell him to call her Talia instead.

The weight on his shoulders returns as soon as they head out of the preserves, however, albeit for an altogether different reason.

They’re going to see Stiles’ dad and Derek absolutely isn’t prepared.

He gets why Stiles asked for it, of course, and he’s glad that his mother agreed that Stiles’ father deserves to know as well.

He is.

He just isn’t prepared at all.

Stiles is driving in front of him and while a part of Derek would love to be in the same car with him right now, he’s also kind of glad that Stiles isn’t witnessing his inevitable emotional meltdown.

Meeting the parents is nerve-wrecking at the best of times.

Meeting the parents while pregnant and possibly having another man’s baby?

Yeah.

Derek is prime son-in-law material for sure. 

His phone rings a couple of minutes later and when Derek puts it on speaker, Stiles’ voice is warm and a little amused.

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not,” Derek denies, seeking out Stiles’ eyes in the jeeps’ rear-view mirror and imagining the disbelieving smile on his boyfriend’s face right now.

“You totally are,” Stiles says lightly and Derek sighs, figuring it’s a lost cause and he might as well admit to it.

“Wouldn’t you be? He’s going to judge me! I just know it!”

Stiles chuckles.

“Well. Unlike you, I happen to _actually_ know my dad, and I think it’s safe to say you’re freaking out over nothing.”

He pauses, clucking his tongue thoughtfully.

“My dad’s going to be _thrilled_ about getting a grandchild, trust me. Sure, he’s probably going to be a bit weirded out about the pregnant man situation at first, but he’s going to come around quickly enough. I know him. It’ll be fine, Derek.”

“You say that like you’ve forgotten we’re also telling him that I could literally rip your face off during an argument and that the baby might not be yours!”

Stiles snorts.

“Okay, first of all, we’re not telling him about the possibility that you might end up mauling me to death if I get on your nerves! He’s prophesized for years that my inability to keep my mouth shut will be the end of me and I don’t want him to actually be worried. Secondly, he’s not going to make an issue out of the baby-daddy situation if _I_ don’t make an issue out of it. Which I’m not. As I’ve told you. Repeatedly.”

 _I know that you **believe** it doesn’t matter to you, _Derek thinks wistfully.

He shrugs it off, though, his uncle’s warning voice ringing in his ear.

_“I know you’re afraid he’s going to leave you if the baby isn’t his. I get it, Derek. I would be afraid, too. I’m going to give you a bit of advice, though. If you don’t want it to matter to him, stop trying to convince him that it should.”_

Peter’s right.

Derek knows he’s right.

He just…can’t help feeling really fucking worried, too.

“I can hear you thinking sad thoughts,” Stiles says gently, breaking Derek out of his reverie.

Since they’re stopping at a red light, Derek chances another glance at Stiles’ rear-view mirror, taking in the affection and concern in Stiles’ gaze.

“Do you want to just go ahead to Los Angeles? I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ _to_ meet my father today.”

“No! Absolutely not. It’s important to you and that makes it even more important to me. I’m just nervous that he’s not going to approve of me and it’s going to make things even more complicated than they already are.”

Stiles shakes his head, smiling wistfully.

“He’s going to adore you, mark my words! My mom would have done the same. Speaking of my mom, if she could see your frowny face right now, she’d put in her favorite mix-tape because no one can stay sad when they’re listening to a great mixtape.”

“I don’t have a cassette player in my car,” Derek replies, starting the car again when the light turns green.

Stiles heaves a mock sigh.

“Kids these days. Well, luckily for you I _do_ have a cassette player and I also have Mom’s mixtape, so I’m just going to go ahead and put that on. I’ll keep the call open, so you can listen to it over the phone.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek says fondly, his lips cracking into a smile as warmth floods his chest.

Stiles laughs.

“Yep! You love it, though.”

 _I do_ , Derek thinks, smiling when Stiles starts singing along enthusiastically to “Walking on Sunshine.” 

_I really, really do._

===================

“Werewolves.”

Derek is sweating.

On the one hand, that’s not unusual for him these days, given that his body has been a lot more prone to sweating ever since he started burning off excess energy for two.

On the other hand, he’s pretty sure he’s never sweat this much in his life and it’s all due to one stunned John Stilinski, who’s gripping his coffee mug so tightly his knuckles are whitening and whose sharp eyes keep snapping back and forth between Derek’s belly and his fangs, like he’s trying to decide which sight is scarier.

On the upside, his baby-bump is fashionably dressed in a nice new green shirt, because Peter took pity on him just before they left and made a quick run into town to get him a shirt that actually fits.

On the downside, the nice green shirt is showing off his pit stains in all their glory, as well as a truly impressive stain just between his breastbone and the top of his belly that is literally clinging to Derek’s overheated skin right now.

He’d love to tug the fabric away to get some air, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to draw even more attention to the bump, which seems to have short-circuited John Stilinski’s brain for the moment.

Beside him, Stiles is drumming his fingers on his knees nervously, looking like he’s regretting hist recent life choices.

 _Good_ , Derek thinks glumly, since he’s pretty sure that the whole reveal could have gone…smoother.

It’s not like he has room to talk, obviously, given that he dragged his feet on the whole revelation situation for almost two months, but at least he had eased Stiles into it.

Minus the accidental wolfing out and the emotional turmoil he’d inadvertently put him through beforehand, of course, but it’s not like he knocked on Stiles’ door and said “The weather’s nice today, isn’t it? Also, fun fact, did you know that werewolves are real and some of them can get man-pregnant?” before Stiles could even finish his coffee.

John Stilinski is still staring at them like he’s not quite sure he’s dreaming, and Derek doesn’t blame him one bit, considering the events of the past thirty minutes. 

Derek looks at Stiles and Stiles raises his eyebrows meaningfully, tapping his tongue against his teeth.

Right.

Fangs.

Derek pulls the shift back in and when he turns to John again, the Sheriff is shaking his head, his expression utterly stunned.

“Werewolves.”

“Ye…yes? Uh…Sir?”

“Unbelievable,” John mutters, shaking his head again and setting the coffee mug down on the table.

“I know, right?” Stiles exclaims, flinching when John throws him a pained glare.

“ _Werewolves_ ,” the Sheriff repeats, rubbing a hand across his face with a heavy sigh.

Then, he looks at Derek, his forehead creased into a curious frown and his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.

“So. I’m going to be a grandpa, huh?”

“ _Seriously_?” Stiles squawks, gaping at his father.

“You made him shift _ten_ times before you were ready to believe I wasn’t joking about the werewolf thing, but you’re going to accept the whole pregnant man situation just like that?”

John shrugs, his eyes never leaving Derek’s belly.

“Honestly, son, if the man can grow fangs and claws and change his eye color on demand, then it’s really not that much of a stretch to assume he can grow other things, too.”

Derek lets out a surprised laugh and John snorts, too, even though he still sounds quite weary when he continues.

“So. Pregnant, huh? And how long have the two of you been dating, exactly?”

Derek flinches and Stiles clears his throat, letting out an uncomfortable little laugh.

“Uh…well…about…seventeen weeks? Give or take?”

“Uhuh. And how far along are you, Derek?”

Derek blushes.

“Uh…about seventeen weeks? Give or take?”

“Oh boy,” John sighs, raising an eyebrow at his son.

“Glasshouses!” Stiles exclaims immediately, though he snaps his mouth shut when John gives him a reproachful glare.

“Glasshouses indeed, son. Which is why I’m quite aware that this is quite a lot to take on at such an early point in a relationship.”

“Well, it’s not like I can change it now,” Stiles replies, sounding a little petulant as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at his father.

Derek wants to assure John that there isn’t anything to worry about.

He wants to tell him that he’s pretty sure that Stiles is his mate, that they were made for each other, and the baby will be lucky to have such an amazing father.

It’s going to be fine.

He’s got this.

“It might not actually be Stiles’ baby!”

Derek absolutely hasn’t got this.

At all.

Beside him, Stiles groans and drags a hand across his face, shooting Derek a desperate look through his fingers.

Across the table, John clears his throat, his expression suddenly looking a lot stormier than just seconds before.

“Alright? Explain?”

“Derek? You don’t have to...”

“It was the night before I met Stiles. I was in bar and they had this really amazing Beaujolais and they were playing _Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien_ and that’s kind of ironic, really, because I’ve pretty much spent the past seven weeks regretting _everything_! I met this guy, his name was Patrice, he...I actually don’t know his last name, he didn’t speak much English, it wasn’t...we didn’t really speak all that much anyway, it was more like...but then...I had no idea I was going to meet Stiles the next day! If I’d known...but I didn’t know that when I met Patrice, so I...uhm...did him.”

Derek presses his ridiculous mouth shut, his heart thumping and his face burning as he replays the last five seconds and wishes the ground would open and just swallow him whole.

Beside him, Stiles is looking at him like he was replaced with a pod person and Derek wholeheartedly understands.

Across the table, John clears his throat.

“Well. Uh...thank you. That was...very vivid. Yeah. That.”

He clears his throat again, taking a sip of his coffee and humming in contemplation.

“So. I’m going to be a grandpa, then,” he repeats after a long pause, turning to Stiles with a raised eyebrow and a questioning frown.

“Yep!” Stiles says firmly, taking Derek’s hand and squeezing it tightly when the werewolf stares at him with wide eyes.

“I know it’s early and it’s a lot to take in and I definitely know it’ll take a bit of time to get used to the whole fangs and claws situation, but yeah. You’re going to be a grandpa. I’m going to be a daddy!”

John Stilinski gives them both a long, searching look, his blue eyes narrowing and making him look every bit the sheriff that he is.

Then, he smiles.

“Grandpa. Huh. I like the sound of that.”

He lets out a soft laugh, still sounding a bit bewildered but not nearly as bewildered as Derek feels about this thoroughly unforeseen turn of events.

Beside him, Stiles lets out a relieved sound as well and then he throws his arms around Derek, his voice warm and a little shaky when he whispers, “I told you!” in his ear.

Two hours and about two hundred questions about werewolves and life plans later, John is seeing them out the door when he suddenly lets out a questioning sound.

“Speaking of the baby – is it going to have a tail?”

Derek chuckles, shaking his head.

“No. It’ll look like any other baby. If they are a werewolf, they won’t start shifting until they’re a bit older.”

“Actually, that’s not what I meant,” John replies, his eyes twinkling mischievously when Stiles groans in exasperation.

“Oh my god, Dad! No! That wasn’t even a dad joke that was just...ugh!”

“What do you...oh? _Oh_. Uhm. Actually? I don’t know.”

“Are you planning on finding out?” John presses, his gaze flitting to Derek’s belly and looking decidedly less freaked out at the visible reminder of the baby’s existence than just two hours earlier.

“Not that it matters, obviously. I’d just like to know whether I’m going to bankrupt myself on pink dresses or little tuxedos.”

“Nope! Nu-uh! We’re not going to start indoctrinating them into the gender binary before they’re even born! Besides, they could turn out to be non-binary! Or gender-fluid! Or maybe trans! We won’t truly know their gender until they’ve actually figured it out themselves!”

“Yes, son. I’m aware. I’m not JK Rowling, you know,” John replies drily, shaking his head in fond amusement when Stiles gawks at him.

“Don’t give me that look. I keep up with things. I’m going to be a hip grandpa, just you wait. I’d still like to know though. Just for fun.”

“Just for...oh come on!” Stiles whines and despite his protestations to the contrary, Derek’s suddenly pretty sure that Stiles is dying to know, too.

He smiles, taking Stiles’ hand.

“Do you want to know? Deaton knows, actually. He’s asked me if I wanted to know before, but I didn’t really...I wasn’t really of the mind to give it much thought. We can find out though. If you want.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, looking adorably hopeful and like he’s not quite sure whether he’s asking for too much.

Derek smiles and pulls out his phone, pulling up his recent calls and tapping Deaton’s name.

Deaton picks up on the second ring.

“Derek. Something wrong?”

“Hey Alan. Nothing’s wrong, I was just wondering...you said you knew the baby’s gender, right?”

“I do,” Deaton replies, the alarmed edge in his tone giving way to fond amusement.

“Would you like to know after all?”

“Yeah. I guess I do. But...could you tell Stiles? I want him to know first.”

“Certainly,” Deaton says and Derek smiles at his gaping boyfriend, handing over the phone with shaking fingers.

“Derek. Are you sure?” Stiles breathes, gripping the phone tightly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah. I’m sure. I kept all of this from you for so long and I just...this time, I want you to be the first to know.”

Stiles exhales shakily and nods, holding up the phone to his ear and croaking “Hey.”

Derek watches his face, trying very hard not to listen in because he wants Stiles to be the one to tell him, too.

A moment later, Stiles gasps.

Then, he flashes Derek an absolutely blinding smile.

“A girl! Derek! We’re having a little girl!”

He whoops, actually whoops, and then he’s throwing his arms around Derek, kissing him silly and grinning like Christmas came early.

It’s safe to say that Derek’s overwhelmed.

Completely and utterly overwhelmed.

He’s also incredibly happy.

He is, in fact, happier than he’s ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left :). I'm still tweaking the last two scenes of the finale, so I think the next chapter will probably come your way by the end of next week:).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voila, the final part :). Enjoy, my lovelies!

_Week 18_

Stiles takes to his role of being a father-to-be like a duck takes to water.

He stops by Derek’s place every night to make sure he’s okay, he memorizes _What To Expect When You’re Expecting_ with almost frightening speed, he holds Derek’s hand on the way to the office when he goes to hand in his notice, and he holds him for hours on the couch afterwards, stroking his hair and reassuring him that quitting his job before the pregnancy got really obvious was definitely the right thing to do.

He figures out Derek’s cravings and makes sure to keep him stocked with most of his favorites (“Proper nutrition is _key_ , Derek, I paid attention when Deaton gave you that lecture, you know”), he despairs over the absolute impracticality of raising a toddler in Derek’s designer loft (“Look at those stairs! Just look at them! She could tumble down and fall straight into another dimension and what would we do then, huh? Oh don’t give me that look, if werewolves are real who’s to say another dimension isn’t!”) _,_ and he kisses Derek’s belly hello and goodbye every time they see each other, smelling excited, content, and not nearly as freaked out as any sane human probably should.

He’s perfect.

Considerate.

He’s everything that Derek ever dreamt of, but when he shows up at Derek’s place with a whole stack of pre-made healthy pregnancy approved lunches, the werewolf decides he has to draw the line.

“I need you to process all of this.”

“Huh?” Stiles asks, looking up from where he’d been tsking over the contents of Derek’s fridge.

“I’m serious, Stiles,” Derek insists, tugging at his hand and pulling him over to the couch so they can snuggle a bit.

He’s high-key concerned that Stiles is overcompensating for being in shock, sure, but he’s also a pregnant werewolf with needs, the most pressing one being that he wants his mate’s hands all over his bump.

Stiles frowns but doesn’t resist, though he raises an eyebrow when Derek lets out a huge sigh and turns to him with his most dramatic Edward Cullen expression.

“I’m worried that you haven’t given yourself time to properly work through this. All of this. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been amazing, you really have been. It’s just...maybe you’re a little too amazing?”

Stiles’ frown deepens.

“So...you want me to what, exactly? Obsess about all the things that could go wrong? Avoid you like the plague? Get out those pitchforks after all?”

“Of course not!” Derek shakes his head, exhaling in frustration as he tries to find the right words.

Stiles clucks his tongue and takes his hand, squeezing it gently despite his slightly exasperated tone.

“Derek. Remember that fun time when you ran out on me because you couldn’t wait one second to let me finish my sentence and I drove after you in a panic because I genuinely thought I’d lost you? I did nothing _but_ freak out on that drive. In total sum, I’ve logged in seven hours of perpetual freak-out, _plus_ a couple of minor freak-outs at your parents’ place. I think that’s more than enough, don’t you?”

“But...”

Derek trails off, biting his lip because he knows that Stiles knows what he’s truly asking, and he also knows that he’s going to hurt Stiles’ feelings again and it’s the last thing he wants to do.

Stiles sighs.

Then, he takes both of Derek’s hands.

“Do you want to know what your sisters told me when they dragged me behind the shed and I thought I was going to lose at least one of my balls?”

Derek looks down at their joint hands and nods, kind of afraid of the answer but also helpless against his curiosity.

Stiles clears his throat.

“Well. Turns out they didn’t come for my balls but kicked me right in my overprotective instincts. In fact, it was made unmistakably clear to me that you like to act tough and have secret hopes to one day be known as Saint Derek the Martyr Wolf, but that you’re also currently in a space where you’re more vulnerable and more influenced by your instincts than you’ve ever been in your entire life. And I get it. I think I really get it.”

He kisses the back of Derek’s hand and then cups his cheek, trailing his fingers along the curve of his neck and squeezing the sensitive spot where it meets his shoulder.

“I guess this would be easier if I was a wolf, too. That way, I could give you a claiming bite and your wolf would know for sure that I’m not going to take off and leave you and the cub all alone.”

“I know you’re not going to leave me just like that! I trust you,” Derek replies immediately, trying and failing to ignore how his heart skips a beat when Stiles refers to the baby as ‘cub’.

Stiles kisses his forehead, giving him a little reassuring smile.

“I know. You still want proof though.”

“Except you don’t have to prove anything to me! That’s the point I’m trying to make! You don’t have to prove yourself. I just want you to be sure you’re really, truly okay with all of this,” Derek mutters, feeling a little frustrated and also a little mad at himself because he’s already doing the one thing that Peter told him not to do and it’s not even been two weeks.

Stiles hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting down to Derek’s bump as he nods in determination.

“How about I build you a den?”

“I...what?”

Stiles shrugs, his lips twitching into a soft smile and his ears turning a little red.

“You heard me. How about I build you a den? Well. It wouldn’t be just for you, of course, I’d kinda like to move in, too. I also wouldn’t technically build it with my own hands, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have hands left by the end of it. But I’d definitely use my hands to search the interwebs for house listings and I’d also use them to sign the contract once we’ve found the perfect fit for us and the munchkin. Only if that’s what you want, of course.”

Derek gapes at him.

“Stiles. You don’t have to...”

“I’m not just doing it for you and the baby, by the way,” Stiles continues, holding up his hands to ward off Derek’s token protest and looking like he’s very much aware that he’s just offered Derek _exactly_ what he wants.

“I mean, Los Angeles is great and all, but my father is getting older and now that he’s about to retire I worry that he’s going to be a little lonely all by himself up there. I already have an offer from the SFPD, by the way. I’ve had it since that law conference in March, actually, but when I came back and you were acting so weird, I didn’t quite know how to bring it up.”

He cocks his head, giving Derek a serious glance.

“So whatever you were about to say about me giving up everything for you and the baby? Not true at all. Not even a little bit. I’ve been thinking about moving back upstate for a year now. In fact, I’m pretty sure I told you that on the flight, right before we ... well ... maybe right before we made the little munchkin in here,” he says, running his hands up and down Derek’s belly with an utterly besotted smile

“I know that your family wants you to move closer to home, too. I also know you kind of want that, too. Just like I know that you’ve been angsting about bringing it up because you didn’t want to put even more on my plate.”

He sobers, his hands stilling on Derek’s belly.

“That’s going to have to change, by the way. That thing where you don’t talk about things that bother you? I know I’m not quite a Daddy Blogger just yet, but even I know that kind of conflict avoidance strategy is not going to win us any parenting of the year award.”

Derek looks down, covering Stiles’ hands with his own and squeezing tightly.

“I...yeah. I’m sorry. You’re right. I know I can’t keep doing this. It’s just ... it’s been a lot. But maybe that’s just an excuse. I’ll work on it.”

“Please do,” Stiles says softy, leaning forward for a soft kiss that Derek is only too happy to give.

“In the meantime, I’m going to start looking at houses in the greater Beacon Hills area. Remember my friend Lydia? Her ex is a pretty successful realtor. He kind of hates me, to be honest, but I’m sure Lydia can talk him into selling us the best den the West Coast has to offer. Hey, maybe I can actually get my dad to move, too. He’s been wanting to sell the house for a while now. Says it’s too big for one man who doesn’t constantly want to be reminded that he’s on his own.”

“You’d...you’d move to Beacon Hills for me?”

Derek is a little stunned and pretty sure his hormones are about to make their triumphant return in a bout of ugly crying and snot all over the place.

Stiles grins, clearly unaware of the tsunami of love that’s about to be unleashed on him.

“Of course I would! It’s where munchkin’s pack is! She should grow up around her pack, shouldn’t she?”

“She’d lov... _oh my god!_ Stiles! Did you _feel that_?”

Derek gasps, his eyes widening as his grip on Stiles’ hands tightens.

“What? What are you...”

“Do you feel this?” Derek gasps again, tugging at Stiles’ hands and moving them to the center of his stomach, pressing down and holding his breath.

“Is she moving? Holy shit, is she moving right now?”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes, letting out a shaky laugh that turns into a sob midway.

After they’re both done bawling, Stiles decides to blame it on the hormones, too.

================

_Week 22_

“We’ve _got_ to get you some new clothes!”

Derek hums noncommittally, his hair still a little wet from the shower and a couple of water droplets glistening on his muscular arms as he reaches for the towel across his shoulders and starts drying his hair.

“No seriously! I mean it! We definitely have to get you more clothes! We’ve got the room for them, too! The house has a walk-in closet and everything! Speaking of, please remind me to send that edible arrangement to Lydia. I’m pretty sure she’s ninety-nine percent responsible for Jackson giving us such a great deal!”

Derek chuckles, raising a teasing eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“You know, if you keep going on about this walk-in closet, I’m going to have to start thinking you only got with me so that you’d have an excuse to get even more printed tees.”

“You’re totally right. That was my cunning plan. I lured you in with my charming sarcasm and humongous cock and then I trapped you _just_ so I could get a magnificent walk-in closet out of the deal.”

“Humongous, huh?” Derek’s second eyebrow joins the first, his mock-serious expression cracking the moment Stiles lets out a playful huff.

“Anyway. New clothes. You need them. Preferably sooner rather than later.”

He cocks his head, squinting at Derek thoughtfully.

“Unless you’re trying to go for the whole crop-top look? The kids I’ve busted for underage drinking recently assure me that crop tops are definitely back in style.”

Derek rolls his eyes, though he has to admit that Stiles has a very solid point.

At twenty-two weeks and five days, his belly has very definitely popped and seems to be getting rounder by the day.

It hasn’t been much of an issue until now, since quitting his job has had the unexpected benefit of getting away with living in his sweatpants all day every day, but Derek has to admit that he’s getting close to outgrowing even his roomiest pair.

Indeed, his basketball shorts are about the only pair of pants he owns that don’t currently feel like they’re painted on his butt and even those are getting tighter, too.

Then, there’s the issue of his beloved henleys and tank tops, which no longer come even close to covering his whole belly and keep riding up with every step he takes.

Derek hates clothes shopping.

Hates it.

With a fiery passion.

Sadly, he definitely needs new clothes.

Derek knows he does.

Right now, however, he also needs to tease his boyfriend, recognizing the glint in his eyes for what it is and feeling all too happy to indulge them both.

“I don’t know. I kinda like the fit of these. Makes me feel my Taylor Swift fantasy.”

He turns and heads to the dresser, shaking his booty a little because of reasons.

Behind him, Stiles sucks in a sharp breath and Derek grins, letting the towel drop to the floor and spreading his legs a little so he can bend forward, wiggling his ass for good measure as he reaches for the towel.

“Ooops.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually understand just how much I’m into you,” Stiles laments behind him, sounding about ten percent miffed, ten percent resigned, and two-hundred percent horny. 

Derek can hear him get off the bed and cross the distance between them in three steps, all too aware that he’s already leaking in his shorts when Stiles wraps his arms around him, squeezes his pec with his left hand and presses the heel of the other against his hard cock.

“You realize why we need you to get new clothes, right?” Stiles whispers and lightly bites Derek’s earlobe, making him let out a soft grunt and jerk against Stiles’ hand.

“You can’t keep walking around practically naked all the time. At this point, I’m low-key worried about getting brain damage, because all my blood keeps heading south and it’s a bit ridiculous, honestly.”

He punctuates it by grinding his erection between Derek’s cheeks and nipping at his neck, immediately soothing the sensitive skin with his tongue and making Derek’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“I’m just human, Derek. Surely there’s a rule in the werewolf handbook that says it’s not okay for the big bad wolf to mercilessly tease the poor, innocent human.”

“I’m not a ba-aaah, _fuck_!” Derek hisses, unable to stop himself from rocking into Stiles’ hand, his head dropping back onto Stiles’ shoulder as he bares his neck to him.

Stiles instantly busies himself with sucking a mark into the sensitive skin and it gives Derek a thrill to know that it’ll stay for a while.

He’s not quite sure why and he’s definitely not going to ask Deaton about it anytime soon or ever, but for some reason his skin has been getting more sensitive the farther he’s gotten along in his pregnancy.

He shifts, letting out a little gasp when his legs rub against each other and there’s a little sting, the result of a handful of pretty purple hickeys that Stiles left on the inside of his thighs more than two days ago and that he can still feel even now.

Behind him, Stiles lets out a little gasp, his fingers mercifully abandoning Derek’s puffy and abused nipples and trailing down the curve of his belly, lightly brushing over his recently popped out belly button and setting all his nerves aflame.

“Are you... _aaah, god_! Are you trying to tell me something?” Derek breathes out on a laugh, followed by a moan when Stiles uses that exact same moment to slip his hand inside Derek’s shorts.

“Hmmm?” Stiles murmurs, barely pausing as he keeps biting at Derek’s neck.

“You think...ah...you think I’m a big, bad wolf, huh?”

“Well, you _are_ getting kind of big,” Stiles teases, thumbing the head of his cock and using Derek’s precome to jerk him nice and slow.

“Mmmmm. Real big. Really fucking big, Derek!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek gets out, biting his lip when Stiles rubs a hand over his stomach again and grinds against his butt once more.

“Getting kind of big here, too. I love it though. Fuck! Love you so fucking much!”

Derek growls, his eyes flashing purple as he twists out of Stiles’ embrace and turns around, using the moment of surprise to wind his arm between Stiles’ legs and lift him over his shoulders into a fireman’s carry.

Stiles grunts in surprise and then gets with the program, keeping his legs still so he won’t accidentally knee Derek’s belly and planting his dangling hand right on the crest of Derek’s butt.

“Are you going to show me what a big _bad_ wolf you are?” he asks, his fingers already slipping into Derek’s shorts again and rubbing across his hole just so.

Derek laughs, carrying him over to the bed and unceremoniously dumping him on the mattress.

“Stiles?”

“Mmm?”

“Stop talking.”

Stiles’ eyes sparkle as he looks up, his pupils dilated with arousal as he palms the sizeable bulge in his boxers.

“Make me.”

Derek doesn’t have to be asked twice.

================

_Week 26_

Towards the end of his second trimester, Derek’s baby-girl is just about as big as an acorn squash and Derek is in full on nesting mode, literally counting the hours until they can finally move into their new home and he can get started on the baby’s nursery in earnest.

He’s also made a comprehensive list of things he’ll need to buy, things he doesn’t necessarily need but wants, and things he definitely doesn’t need but actually really wants.

“Also. New clothes!” Stiles reminds him when he gets a look at the list, pressing a kiss to Derek’s naked shoulder and wrapping his arms around him, his palms warm against the bare skin of Derek’s belly.

“It’s almost 100 degrees _and_ I’m in the privacy of my home. Besides, my wolf has always preferred it this way during the summer months,” Derek protests and Stiles snorts, his hands following the baby’s movements under Derek’s skin.

“Yes, my love. I’m sure the wolf enjoys frolicking naked just as much as the next guy. However, given that I haven’t seen you wear clothes _at all_ for the past week, the question beckons – was that by choice or because you truly don’t have anything that fits you anymore?”

Derek sighs, flashing his boyfriend a sheepish smile.

“Uhm. I’m pretty sure some of my zip up hoodies still fit. But again – 100 degrees!”

“Uh hu. And how about pants?”

“Pants ... are a problem,” Derek admits and Stiles chuckles, his hands dropping down to Derek’s ass and squeezing the root-cause of said problem with far too much enthusiasm.

“Indeed, they are. Pretty sure those hoodies are going to be a problem, too, by the way. Last I recall, the one you wore on the flight was so tight that I could literally see the ridges of your abs.”

“Or I could just stay naked until the baby comes. I’m a wolf, you know. It’s what we do.”

“Remind me to never drop by your parents’ house unannounced, then,” Stiles grins, giving his ass another pat before stepping away and taking mercy on him.

“Also, you’re a wolf expecting company this evening. I mean, it’s your body and you alone decide who gets to see it in all its glory, but I’m not quite sure if Lyds would appreciate the show as much as I do.”

Derek sighs again, partly because the idea of putting on clothes really doesn’t agree with his wolf and partly because he’s a little nervous about Lydia’s visit.

Scratch that.

He’s _incredibly_ nervous.

He’s met her twice before, when she came down for a conference at UCLA in February and stayed at Stiles’ apartment for a week.

She’s...nice.

Intimidating, but nice.

To Stiles, at least.

She’s also incredibly protective of him and Derek had seen evidence of that in every polite question and every piercing glance as they’d gone out for dinner.

She didn’t disapprove of him then, he’s pretty sure, but he’s got no clue how she’s going to act towards him now.

On the upside, at least she already knows the big stuff, since Talia allowed Stiles to let her in on the secret after she more or less badgered Jackson into making sure they got the perfect den for her first grandchild to grow up in.

On the downside, Derek _definitely_ heard the soft blip in Stiles’ heartbeat when he assured him that Lydia didn’t think the whole paternity mystery was that big of a deal, so it’s safe to say he’s pretty worried.

Derek feels her on that, though.

After all, he, too, thinks that the whole paternity mystery is a pretty fucking big deal indeed.

By the time Lydia rings the doorbell in the early afternoon, Derek’s anxiety has skyrocketed to the moon and even Stiles is nervous, though he manages to make it look a lot more fashionable than Derek, on account of having clothes that fit whereas Derek’s really...don’t.

On the one hand, he’s managed to find the one hoodie he can still zip up without being in too much pain _and_ it covers almost ninety percent of his stomach, which is definitely more than anything else he’s tried to wear, lately.

On the other hand, it’s bright pink and has the word ‘pink’ stitched on with glittery embroidery, because Laura used to work at Victoria’s Secret and felt bad that only Cora could benefit from her employee discount.

Derek doesn’t have a problem with pink, necessarily.

He likes it well enough, actually, but he does, indeed, fiercely regret the color combination of his pink sweatshirt and his neon-orange colored basketball shorts, slung low under his bump and rounding out the horrific display with a sliver of hairy stomach that Stiles keeps touching like he hopes his happy trail will lead him to the land of milk and honey.

It’s a tragedy, really, and Lydia’s finely shaped eyebrows rise in agreement when she sets sight on him for the first time in five months.

“Yeah. No,” she decides, holding up her keys with one hand and grabbing Derek’s hand with the other.

“Stiles? I’m taking your boyfriend shopping. Make sure the white wine is chilled when I get back.”

“I can come, too!” Stiles says immediately, clearly picking up on the terror in Derek’s wide eyes.

Lydia shakes her head though, giving him an almost pitying glance.

“Nope. Flannel shirts and printed tees will not improve this... _situation_.”

The situation is entirely too steamrolled and intimidated to put up much of a protest, but by the time Lydia pulls out of the parking lot he is mostly recovered enough to point out the flaw in her plan.

“Uhm. Lydia? I can’t really go to the mall looking like this.”

Lydia hums, throwing him a smile that’s a rather impressive cross between angelic and utterly demonic.

“Just leave that to me.”

Half an hour later, Lydia is strutting straight towards the maternity store with her head held high and her stomach proudly jutting out in front of her, courtesy of a balloon she’d still had in her trunk after organizing a bridal shower a couple of days ago.

Derek, meanwhile, is carrying an oversized beach bag and holding it right in front of his stomach, feeling a little like he’s Olivia Pope in season three of _Scandal_ and just about as obviously pregnant.

“Awww, are you guys having a little girl?” the sales associate gushes when they walk in, looking like she’s not quite sure whether to judge or coo at Derek.

“Actually, yes,” Lydia chirps, turning to Derek with a sweet smile and adding, “Why don’t you go wait for me in front of the changing rooms, snuggle-buns?”

Derek’s too grateful to be seriously offended at the atrocious nickname and he flees, relieved to find the room at the very end unoccupied and letting out a huge sigh after he’s locked the door behind him.

Also, there’s a surprisingly comfortable ottoman in the corner and Derek’s glad for it, too, because it takes Lydia almost twenty minutes until she shows up with a mind-bogglingly large selection.

“Sorry for the wait,” she says cheerfully, dumping her large haul in his arms that includes a pair of olive green booty shorts, a pair of linen shorts, two pairs of dark jeans, a couple of long-sleeve and short-sleeve shirts, a short-sleeved olive green henley, a teal Henley style tank top, a distressed denim overall, and a see-through anthracite-blue kimono that Derek stares at with a raised eyebrow.

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to make sure the sales associate wasn’t paying attention when I picked out sizes that were obviously too large for me. Would you like me to turn around?”

“I really couldn’t care less,” Derek says with feeling, figuring that the sight of his pregnant body can’t be any more shocking than the eye-sore that is his current neon-orange and bright pink combo.

About an hour later, Derek’s pretty sure he’s never seen this many shopping bags at the same time as they exit the store, but Lydia looks deeply pleased, even more so after she’s made him stop by the mall bathroom and he’s changed into his new pair of jeans and an emerald zip up hoodie that feels amazing on his skin, is still loose enough that he can hide his shape, and made of thin enough material that the late afternoon summer temperatures don’t even bother him all that much.

“Well, looks like we got done a bit sooner than I thought we would. You know what that means, of course. You’re going to treat me to ice-cream as a thank you,” Lydia decides when they get into the car, and Derek agrees easily, his cravings quickly overriding the feeling of awkwardness about being out in public again after essentially hiding for two months.

They head to Derek’s favorite ice-cream parlor and Lydia doesn’t even judge him much when he orders a scoop of jasmine green tea and salted caramel, topped with mango sauce and peanut butter cup sprinkles.

When they’re tucked into a corner booth that’s far away from prying eyes and ears, Lydia clears her throat.

“He loves you very much. You know that, right?”

Derek freezes, pretty sure he’s looking like a werewolf caught in the headlights as he carefully sets his spoon back down.

“I...yeah. I know. I love him very much, too.”

“Good,” Lydia says calmly, her gaze narrowing a little as she takes a spoonful of her own vanilla-raspberry swirl ice-cream.

“That means you shouldn’t ever doubt him when he says the baby’s paternity doesn’t matter to him, doesn’t it?”

Derek flinches and Lydia sighs, shaking her head at him and looking more judgmental than she did when she first set sight on his tragic wardrobe fail a couple of hours earlier.

“You know he can tell, right?” she continues, casually taking another bite of ice-cream like she isn’t currently dissecting Derek’s most pressing life-crisis.

“He hasn’t told me much, by the way. Please don’t think that he’s sharing all the details of your relationship with me. He wouldn’t do that. I know him, though. I can read him like an open book and right now he’s firmly stuck on chapter _The Love of My Life Keeps Losing Sleep Because He’s Afraid I’ll Walk Out on Him and Our Baby and I Don’t Know How to Fix It_.””

Derek looks down, not quite sure how he’s supposed to talk through his complicated feelings with an almost-stranger who recently saw him naked.

At the same time, she’s one of Stiles’ closest friends and might as well be his honorary sister-in-law, so Derek figures he might as well try.

“I don’t think he’s going to walk out on me. I know he wouldn’t. I know he’s going to love the baby, too. I don’t doubt that at all. I just...just...”

“You want the baby to be his and you’re afraid she won’t be,” Lydia finishes for him and Derek lets out a shaky breath, gripping his spoon tightly so he won’t accidentally pop his claws.

“I...I want her to be happy. I want her to grow up knowing where she came from. If Stiles is not the father, then I...the chances that I’ll find her biological father again are slim to none. I only know his first name. I don’t even know if he’s actually from Paris or if he was just passing through. She deserves to know where she came from. I don’t...she’s not even born yet and I’m already fai...I just want her to be happy. I want both of them to be happy.”

Lydia hums thoughtfully, leaning over to steal a spoonful of jasmine green tea ice cream.

“In other words, your biggest problem right now isn’t so much that you don’t trust _Stiles_ , but that you don’t quite trust _yourself_ that you’ll be able to handle the emotional fall-out if the baby isn’t his?”

Derek looks down again, letting out a heavy sigh.

Lydia sighs, too. Then, she reaches for his hand and squeezes gently.

“Can you do me a favor, Derek? Tell him. Tell him exactly that. It’ll help. Trust me. It’ll really help.”

“I’ don’t...”

“Tell him,” Lydia repeats, squeezing his hand tighter and giving him a little half-smile.

Then, she goes back to eating her ice-cream like nothing happened and even though Derek feels kind of raw, his shoulders also feel a bit lighter than just moments ago.

Plus, he’s pretty sure he just got Lydia’s blessing, so there’s that.

The baby uses his moment of contemplation to get in a sneaky kick right against his rib and he grunts, massaging the spot and frowning down at his stomach.

“Easy,” he murmurs, running both hands over his belly to soothe her and once again regretting that the foods he’s craving the most also seem to be the ones that get her riled up the fastest.

When he looks back up, Lydia is staring at him intently, her lips slowly stretching into the first truly genuine smile he’s seen all afternoon.

“Yeah. I think you’ll do just fine,” she decides.

The certainty in her voice does not soothe the anxiety that’s been his steady companion for the past 17 weeks.

As they walk back to the car, however, Derek feels a lot lighter than he has in quite a while.

================

_Week 30_

Stiles has his last day of work at the LAPD at the end of July and it takes them almost a week to move into the new house right at the edge of the Beacon Hills preserves.

By the time they’ve gotten all the boxes into the house and it’s time to assemble the furniture, Derek is reasonably sure that moving while being pregnant in his third trimester was possibly not his smartest choice ever.

He has plenty of opportunity to consider it, too, because he’s not allowed to lift even one finger.

Not that he couldn’t, necessarily, given that his werewolf strength is still at full capacity, but his belly is starting to get in the way of basically everything, making the idea of him carrying something bulky like a couch rather preposterous.

He does feel a bit useless, however, watching over the proceedings in the bedroom where Cora and Lydia are wielding tools until Cora threatens to whack him with the IKEA instruction manual if he doesn’t stop hovering.

Her hair is out of control, her eyes are wild, and she looks like she’s planning to perform an exorcism on their new dresser, so Derek makes a hasty retreat.

His next stop is the nursery, where his mother promptly forgets he’s a werewolf and yells at him about paint fumes.

Banished and sulking, Derek waddles down into the mostly finished kitchen, where Laura has him sit down on a stool and pushes a sandwich at him.

Mollified, Derek laments about his uselessness to his big sister, only to leave in a huff when Laura cheekily informs him that he’s growing a baby and has thus reached the pinnacle of his productivity.

Armed with his delicious sandwich, Derek makes his way out into their small garden, where Stiles and his dad have just finished setting up the surprisingly comfortable patio lounger.

He rolls his eyes when he’s all but man-handled onto the cushions, but Stiles insists, his expression utterly fond and cheerful despite the fact that he’s drenched in sweat.

In all honesty, Derek’s wolf would really like to get started on making a nest for the little one happily dancing around inside of him, but since his mom is still guarding the nursery like a fire breathing dragon, Derek decides to go for a quick nap instead.

A while later, he’s jolted out of his sleep by the smell of meat cooking on a grill, and when he blinks his eyes open he’s surprised to see Stiles, the Sheriff, his parents, Peter, Laura, Cora, and Lydia drinking beer and chatting on the patio, apparently done for the day.

Derek tries not to think about how ungraceful he looks as he rolls himself off the lounger, ignores his family’s grins as he waddles inside to use the restroom, and lets out a surprised sound when he notices the progress they’ve made.

“Werewolf magic. Once you stopped hovering we could actually get some work done,” Laura yells from the patio and Derek rolls his eyes, though he can’t help feeling touched at his family’s labor of love.

The smell of steak is wafting through the house and Derek’s mouth is definitely watering, but his wolf is urging him elsewhere, up the stairs and down the hall, to the freshly painted room right next to the master bedroom.

He lets out a soft gasp when he steps into the nursery, his eyes widening as he takes in his mother’s handiwork.

The room has dark wooden floors and the walls are painted in light anthracite, the color beautifully complimenting the teal curtains and the large teal fleece mat sponge carpet that feels soft under his bare toes and that he imagines will be perfect for a little one to crawl around on.

The crib and dresser are creamy white, and the bedding is the same color teal as the curtains, placed opposite a comfortable looking anthracite recliner.

When he bends over the crib, he lets out a little gasp as he notices the worn little wolf plushie that’s been sitting on Uncle Peter’s shelf ever since he can remember and that his uncle would never let him touch, no matter how much he begged.

The tears in his eyes are the hormones’ fault.

Obviously.

However, his hormones are in for yet another onslaught when he turns around and notices the white tree painted on the wall opposite the crib.

It’s a beautiful tree, with playful branches and delicate teal flowers that have the names of Derek’s parents, sisters, and grandparents written over them in his dad’s gorgeous caligraphy.

What really gets Derek though is the center, where his and Stiles’ names are hovering over a blank flower, the place where he figures his mom is planning to add the baby’s name.

What gets him even more, however, are the names John and Claudia, written on the two closest flowers to Stiles’ name.

The writing looks a little different than the rest and Derek’s knees start feeling a bit wobbly when he takes a sniff and realizes that John must have put them there himself.

It’s beautiful.

It’s perfect.

It’s completely overwhelming, honestly, and Derek has never felt more grateful for Stiles’ presence than he does when strong arms suddenly wrap around him, steadying Derek against the storm of emotions welling up inside of him.

“It’s beautiful,” Stiles says quietly, kissing the shell of Derek’s ear and rubbing a gentle hand over the now quite pronounced swell of Derek’s belly.

“She’s going to love it so much!”

 _She’s going to love **you** so much, _Derek thinks, placing his hands over Stiles’ hands and holding him there, hoping he’ll never let go.

The family tree is a promise to his little one, the promise of a whole group of people ready and waiting to love her endlessly.

As he stares at the second flower that his mom left blank just in case, Derek fiercely hopes that everyone will follow through on their promise.

=============

_Week 32_

“ _DUDE!_ ”

Growing up in a house with Laura _and_ Uncle Peter, Derek used to be fairly sure he’d seen the pinnacle of righteous indignation.

It takes Scott McCall about two seconds to prove him wrong.

“Uh ... surprise?”

“Dude!” Scott exclaims again, looking stunned and outraged and also like he’s not quite sure he’s awake.

“I know, right? Pretty awesome, huh?”

It shouldn’t be possible, but Scott’s eyes get even wider, his gaze snapping back and forth between Stiles and Derek with rapid speed.

Well.

Between Stiles and Derek’s belly, that is.

In all honesty, Derek’s starting to get tired of people just rudely staring at his belly, but he still tries for his most winning smile because he does understand where Scott is coming from.

Scott, on the other hand, clearly doesn’t understand anything right now and is getting more and more worked up about it by the second.

“What is this ... how is this .... since when did you ... why would you not ... how did you ... _why is this the first I’m hearing about this_?”

He looks at Stiles in utter betrayal and Stiles lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck and looking a little contrite.

“Uhm...because I’m a pretty awesome friend? Because you were knee-deep in your preparations for your final exams to fulfil your dream of getting a vet degree? Because I know that you get easily distracted and this is just about the most distracting thing I can think of?” he tries, flinching when Scott sputters in outrage.

“ _Dude_! You’re having a _baby_! A _werewolf_ baby! That’s like...that’s like...I don’t even know what that’s like!”

“See? That _I don’t even know_ -energy is exactly the kind of energy I wanted to spare you from while you were studying for the most important exams of your entire life.”

Stiles attempts a reassuring smile and Scott gapes at him incredulously, right before his gaze snaps back to Derek’s belly and he continues with the wide-eyed staring.

Derek’s wolf is rather displeased about the presence of an anxious stranger and his proximity to the cub, but the more he focuses on Scott, the more Derek gets concerned about the rattling in his chest, getting worse and worse with each new flabbergasted “Dude!”

“I’m sorry, Scotty. I really thought it was best this way. But hey, you get to be godfather and that kind of makes up for the secrecy, right?” Stiles says winningly, wincing when Scott responds by yanking an inhaler from his pocket and taking a couple of helpless gulps.

Stiles stays calm but he tenses, his anxiety smelling sour in Derek’s nose and lingering even after Scott has gotten his breathing back under control.

Eventually, the outraged dude-exclamations taper off and Scott starts asking questions in full sentences, and by the time Stiles gets started on dinner Scott has completely committed himself to be the world’s most amazing Uncle Scotty, even though his heartbeat still picks up every time Derek’s belly moves.

Which is often, really, because the baby is diligently training to earn her spot in the national soccer league and also Derek needs to breathe every now and then.

To protect Scott’s heart health and also his own nerves, Derek declares he’s taking a quick nap and removes himself from the kitchen, fleeing to their bedroom and trying not to listen in to Stiles’ calm reassurances and the way Scott’s incredulous questions are starting to take a decidedly creative and disturbing turn.

Also, he needs to call his mom.

By the time Stiles comes to get him, Derek’s actually fallen asleep, his body clearly seizing onto every resting opportunity it can now that he’s regularly waking up at least five times per night.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, kissing the top of his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed, his warm, large palms already cupping Derek’s stomach like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m fine. Just needed to take a breather.”

“Yeah. I get that. He’s coming around though. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s going to show up here with a “My Godfather Is the Best” onesie tomorrow, so I’d say he’s handling it pretty well.”

“I guess he wouldn’t be your best friend otherwise,” Derek replies, and Stiles smiles fondly, nodding in agreement.

Then, he holds out his hands and pulls Derek into a sitting position without needing to be asked, fully aware that Derek can still do it on his own but also sensitive to the fact that Derek gets a little embarrassed about the fairy tale huffing and puffing he’s started doing ever since the baby got big enough to really cramp his lungs’ style.

When they’re both standing, Derek gently nudges their shoulders together, giving Stiles a hesitant little smile.

“Stiles? I was thinking we could invite my mom after dinner. I’m sure it would help Scott get used to this faster if Mom were here to answer his questions. I also thought that maybe we could invite someone else from the pack. Someone like...Erica.”

“Erica? You mean your mom’s Beta who works at the fire station? Why would you want to...oh. _Oh_.”

Stiles’ face goes very still, but his heartbeat and smell do the talking for him, presenting Derek with a dizzying mixture of shock, anxiety, and hope.

“You think...”

“He might not want to,” Derek hurries to clarify, reaching for Stiles’ hand and squeezing tightly.

“Mom wouldn’t be offended if she offered and he didn’t take it. There _are_ risks, after all. With Erica, her condition was worsening rapidly, and she was actually afraid she wouldn’t wake up one day. She was more than willing to take the risk. He doesn’t smell...he doesn’t smell as bad as she did. But his lungs...he should know there’s an option.”

Stiles swallows and nods, squeezing Derek’s hand right back as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah. I think he should, too.”

Talia and Erica show up after dinner, bringing ice-cream, revelations, and a life-changing opportunity.

Scott doesn’t say no outright, but he also asks for some time to think it over, which Talia agrees is only fair and also makes her respect him more, as Derek can clearly tell by the look in her eyes and the warmth in her voice when she hugs Scott goodbye.

Scott does, however, say yes without hesitation when Deaton offers him a position at the Beacon Hills vet clinic the next day.

Stiles is absolutely thrilled at the prospect of having both his dad and his best friend in close proximity once again.

The baby clearly picks up on the happiness around her, kicking Derek every time she hears Stiles laugh.

Derek doesn’t mind one bit.

================

_Week 36_

By the time he’s nearing the homestretch and his due date starts looming on the horizon, Derek finds himself in quite the conundrum.

On the one hand, he’s starting to get tired of pregnancy and would rather have it over with sooner than later.

He’s literally tired, actually, spending hour after hour awake at night because he has to pee, his limbs fell asleep, finding a comfortable position for the bump is just as futile as anyone putting up resistance to the Borg collective, or he has a pressing urge to clean the kitchen.

Or the bathroom.

Or the nursery.

Or the floors, though Stiles puts a firm ban on vacuuming at 3 AM that Derek’s wolf doesn’t necessarily like but grumpily accepts.

In addition to feeling like he’s in a perpetual cleaning craze, Derek’s feet and ankles are also comically swollen and while his werewolf powers prevent them from actually hurting, it’s still a weird enough sight that Derek’s really grateful his stomach is big enough to spare him from the tragedy.

Also, Cora claims his clawed toes make him look like he stepped right out of _Beauty and the Beast_ and Derek’s not a deranged kidnapper who locks girls in the basement and uses Stockholm syndrome to his advantage, thank you very much.

Then, there’s the constant itching of his belly, his skin stretched so tightly that Derek can’t quite imagine how he’s supposed to get even bigger, still, given that the baby has about four weeks of growing left and seems determined to carpe diem the shit out it.

“Actually, you’re really not that big, honey. I was a lot bigger with both you and Cora,” his mom tells him when he growls in frustration after knocking over yet another glass with his bump, but Derek swears he hears her heartbeat blip and spends the rest of the afternoon sulking on the patio, relenting only when his mom bakes him peanut butter chocolate cookies from scratch and gives him another scented oil belly massage that actually makes the itching go away for a while.

Finally, there’s the issue of sex and hormones, the former of which his brain tells him he really, really wants but the latter are decidedly more ‘meh’ about by the time he enters his final month of pregnancy.

It’s a luxury problem, sure, but Derek is very in love with his amazing, kind, and mind-blowingly hot boyfriend and he also really misses the good – if short-lived – old times when he could still lie on his stomach and enjoy the sweet sensation of Stiles pounding into him.

Also, the fun times when he could still prop up his legs on Stiles’ shoulders and get delightfully folded in half with the force of each well-aimed thrust against his prostate.

These days, the combination of his hormonally dropping libido and the ever-growing bump make keeping the romance alive a little more complicated, but Derek _is_ , indeed, very much in love with Stiles and so he still finds himself rolling on his side every now and then, looking back over his shoulder with a come-hither look that he hopes compensate for the very un-sexy grunting, huffing, and puffing that accompanies the acrobatic maneuver.

Luckily, Stiles is very much in love with Derek, too, moving inside him just as enthusiastically as he always does, even though it’s definitely slower and gentler than Derek is used to.

It’s sensual, intimate, and perfect.

It’s also incredibly awkward at times, but Stiles just breezes past all the pregnancy special effects and kisses Derek gently and sweetly until he, too, forgets about any and all pregnancy-gas related incidents.

Still.

Despite the fact that Stiles’ hands and kisses on his bump are the most amazing sensation he’s ever felt, Derek is most definitely very done with pregnancy and absolutely cannot wait to finally get to meet his little girl.

On the other hand, however, Derek is absolutely terrified of the upcoming moment of truth, his chest clenching every time he allows himself to think about the what ifs.

Yes, he trusts Stiles.

Yes, he knows that Stiles won’t mind.

Yes, he knows that Stiles is preparing himself for the possibility that the outcome might not be the one they’re both hoping for.

And still, the fear remains, coupled with an ever-growing guilt every time he thinks of the stranger in Paris.

Patrice, whom Derek barely knows anything about except for the fact that he smelled kind and – for one fateful night – treated Derek like he was the most precious thing in the universe.

He doesn’t know anything about his likes, his hopes, or his dreams, doesn’t know anything about his family, whether his baby might already have siblings, or even if he ever wanted to be a father at all.

What he does know, however, is that it would be incredibly difficult to track him down.

And even if he found him, what would he do then?

“Hey, remember me? The man you slept with in a hotel room in Paris in January of 2021? Congratulations, you knocked me up and this is our furry love child! Watch your fingers, she might bite!”

No.

It’s too high a risk.

He can’t risk his baby’s health and happiness for anything.

And yet, he’d be denying both of them, denying her of the chance to know her origins and be loved by even more people, and denying him of what he’s pretty sure is going to be the most amazing baby in the universe.

The thought eats at him almost as much as his fear of what might happen if the baby isn’t Stiles’, and some nights it’s all he can think about as he roams around his den.

“I love you,” Stiles whispers one night after he’s gotten back into bed, his lips trailing soft kisses all over Derek’s belly as he whispers more promises to the little one.

“I love you so much.”

“I’m so glad I get to be your daddy.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“I hope you have your Papa’s beautiful eyes.”

“Your grandpa can’t wait to meet you.”

“We’re going to go on so many adventures, you and I.”

“I love you.”

“I love you very much.”

His heartbeat is steady, a strong, comforting rhythm that is turning out to be the only sound to soothe Derek back to sleep.

Growing up, Derek used to loathe the fact that being surrounded by werewolves meant that he could never get away with fibbing and his real thoughts and feelings were never quite as private as those of his friends at school.

Now, however, the fact that being a werewolf grants him the ability to hear Stiles’ sincerity in his heartbeat is the second-biggest perk of it all, keeping him calm and anchored and getting him through this final stage of insecurity.

The biggest perk is being able to carry his baby, of course.

It’s still a little terrifying.

Truthfully, Derek doesn’t think being a parent will ever _not_ be a little terrifying.

He’s grateful for it all, though.

Especially for Stiles.

================

_September 30 th, 2021_

His baby’s birth is the most surreal experience of Derek’s life.

It’s painful, yes, but it’s also incredibly peaceful, a soothing feeling that carries him over the edge every time the pain gets a little worse.

Stiles calls Derek’s mom after his water breaks early in the morning and when his family arrives Derek’s working through a contraction with Stiles by his side, his face pressed against Stiles’ chest and Stiles’ hands kneading into his back.

Deaton arrives soon after, takes a quick look, and declares that it’s going to be a while, yet, his smile indulgent and infuriatingly enigmatic as ever when Derek can’t quite suppress his little growl.

Deaton makes himself scarce, then, sitting down in the corner of the living room with a book and checking on Derek periodically.

Around noon, Derek’s dad goes into the kitchen and soon the mouth-watering smell of Derek’s favorite soup fills their home, his comfort food since early childhood and also easy on his stomach.

He hasn’t eaten in almost twelve hours and feels ravenous when his mom offers him a small bowl, but Talia shakes her head and cards her fingers through his hair, instructing him to eat slowly and carefully and telling him he’ll thank her later. 

Mom, Dad, Laura, Cora, and Peter share the meal with him, sitting around him in a circle as he keeps swaying on his birthing ball, distracting him from the pain, and gently teasing Stiles when he can’t stop watching Derek with deer-wide eyes.

The air is filled with joyful expectation and the comforting scent of _pack_ and Derek draws strength from it, powering through contraction after contraction as each passing hour takes him closer to finally meeting his precious daughter.

The sun starts setting around six-thirty and Derek’s contractions are both more frequent and stronger, his temporary birth canal now fully dilated and ready to start the show.

His dad prepares sandwiches for Deaton, Talia, and Stiles, and then takes Peter, Laura, and Cora home, whispering to Derek that he’s proud of him and pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty head before he goes.

Derek moves into the birthing pool after they’ve gone and spends the next hour holding on to his mother and Stiles’ hands for dear life, eventually giving in to his urge to scream when the pain becomes too much. 

It’s almost eight when the pain gets really, _really_ bad, paired with something that makes Derek’s wolf whine restlessly inside of him.

Deaton determines he’s ready to push now and instructs Stiles to get into the pool behind him, telling Derek to listen to his body and that he’s going to be holding his baby very soon.

Stiles holds him tight, whispering praises and encouragements in his ear and staying calm even as Derek screams, the pressure all-consuming and unbearable now.

His mom is a steadying presence beside him, her touch cool and comforting whenever she pushes a sweaty lock of hair out of Derek’s eyes, but she lets Stiles do the talking, acknowledging his position and accepting him as Derek’s mate and father of his child.

It’s the combination of Stiles’ strength and her calm that gives Derek the peace of mind to solely focus on his baby now, pushing with all his might and letting out a howl of pain when her head breaches the birth canal.

It takes another contraction to get her out fully and Stiles encourages him through these last few special moments where it’s just the two of them, his voice brimming with emotion as he tells Derek how good he’s doing, how perfect he is, how much he loves him and how much he loves their daughter.

When his baby-girl slips out of him, Derek’s head thuds back against Stiles’ chest and he closes his eyes, wanting to savor the last moment of not-knowing.

Even so, a boneless sense of relief spreads through his body when his daughter is placed on his chest and she lets out her first scream, strong, healthy, and the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles whispers, his heartbeat thundering against Derek’s back.

“She’s beautiful!” Talia breathes, her voice thick with emotion as she lets out a joyful sob.

“She’s perfect! Oh my god, she’s so perfect! Derek, look!” Stiles breathes, his trembling fingers gripping Derek’s shoulder as he kisses the side of his face.

Derek inhales deeply, slowly opening his eyes and looking down at his precious little miracle.

The first thing he notices are her beautiful black curls, covering an impossibly tiny head.

Everything about her is tiny, actually, from her cute button nose to elfin-like ears, ten little fingers, and ten little toes, which Derek counts with a shaky exhale.

Her eyes are shaped just like Derek’s and they’re wide open, her screams slowly quieting down when Derek instinctively flashes his eyes at her, and she flashes her own eyes right back.

It’s just a short instinctual flicker, but it’s enough to make his heart burst with pride and his mother let out another sob next to him.

Stiles is right.

She truly is perfect, and Derek doesn’t think he’s ever been this in love in his entire life.

“I told you she was going to have your eyes.”

Stiles is sniffling as he caresses a finger down her chubby little cheek and he smells of nothing but joy and wonder, his touch achingly affectionate and his voice brimming with warmth and love.

However, for a moment all Derek can think about is the contrast of Stiles’ pale finger and his daughter’s light brown skin, skin that Derek knows will soon turn into the same beautiful rich brown as Patrice’s.

She’s not Stiles’ baby.

Somewhere, deep down and safely hidden in his heart, Derek always knew she wasn’t going to be Stiles’ baby.

When he sees the soft, wistful smile on Stiles’ face, he realizes that his boyfriend always knew it, too.

Except..

Except she is.

She might not be his biological child, but she’s definitely Stiles’ baby.

It’s clear to see in the way she calms down instantly when Stiles rescues her after Deaton’s finished examining her, her screams of protest tapering off quickly and the tension in her little body instantly melting away when Stiles cradles her gently, talks to her, and reassures her through touch and sound that she’s okay.

She knows him.

She feels _safe_ with him, her soft newborn baby smell getting even sweeter when Stiles presses a gentle kiss to her head and tells her that he loves her.

She’s Stiles’ baby.

She’s Stiles’ baby in all the ways that truly count.

“I was thinking,” Stiles says a couple of hours later, kissing Derek’s cheek and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

They’re snuggled in bed and Derek’s feeding their daughter, the only sounds in the room the steady beating of his family’s hearts and the baby’s little suckling sounds.

“I know we agreed on Eloise Marie and if you don’t want to change that now, that’s perfectly fine, of course. I just thought...would you be open to maybe changing her middle name?”

“What did you have in mind?” Derek asks, turning his head towards him with a little frown when Stiles’ heartbeat picks up a little.

Stiles holds his gaze and lets out a soft breath, his voice quiet and serious when he answers.

“After my mother died, I promised myself I’d name my first-born daughter after her. Not as a first name, but as a middle name. Just so she’d have a little gift from her grandma, even if she wasn’t lucky enough to ever get to meet her. I want to honor that promise, so I thought...how would you feel if we named her Eloise Claudia Hale?”

Derek figures his feelings are expressed adequately enough when he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes wide and brimming with tears as he holds his mate’s gaze.

“Stiles,” he says softly, looking down at his baby and then back at his mate, who’s watching him with a hesitant but hopeful smile.

“Are you sure? Are you really sure?”

“Yep,” Stiles confirms, and he’s crying too, his scent a warm blanket made of love, happiness, and the bittersweet tang of an old grief.

“I want her to have that connection. I know my mother would want that, too.”

He smiles, gently stroking his finger down Eloise’s arm.

“Dad agrees, by the way. Just so you know.”

“I love you,” Derek replies, too overwhelmed to say anything else and feeling like he’ll never quite manage to find the words to convey just how much this means to him.

“Ditto,” Stiles whispers, his scent flooding with relief as hooks his chin over Derek’s shoulder again.

Derek shares his relief, feels it in all of his bones as a massive weight lifts off his chest and the only pressure left is the sleep-warm body of his little girl.

There’s one more issue to address, of course, but they’ve talked about it at length and they’ve figured out a plan.

 _We’ll be fine_ , Derek thinks, watching Eloise fall asleep and feeling Stiles’ breathing even out behind him soon after.

Wrapped in his mate’s arms and holding his daughter, Derek finally accepts that they were always going to be fine.

================

_Epilogue_

When Eloise is six weeks old, Peter leaves for Paris with a backpack filled with newborn onesies carrying her scent and wearing a broad grin that makes Derek suspect his uncle’s motivation is about as much tied to sniffing out Eloise’s biological father as it is to the prospect of a lavish vacation in Paris. 

Amidst frequent Insta-stories of museums, croissants, and beautiful women, it takes Peter just about two months to track down one Patrice Idrissou Amougou in a suburb of Paris.

As the pack’s left hand, Peter’s first and foremost duty is to make sure that nothing will threaten their safety and Derek’s shoulders slump in relief when he gets a text one morning that just says _It’s going to be okay_.

Patrice arrives in Beacon Hills a week later, looking incredibly bewildered, a little intimidated, and also incredibly awed, his eyes widening as he lets out a gasp when he sees Eloise for the first time, as though he didn’t quite believe she actually existed until she was right in front of him.

Derek holds his breath as he watches Stiles carefully place Eloise in Patrice’s arms, his anxiety going through the roof as he focuses on Stiles’ scent, expecting him to feel bitter, sad, and maybe even a little jealous.

As is his habit, Stiles refuses to meet his expectations of doom and gloom.

Instead, he pats Patrice’s shoulder and steps back, his arm winding around Derek’s waist and holding him close as they watch Eloise look up at her biological father curiously, her adorable button nose twitching and her face scrunched up into a cute little frown.

Patrice smiles down at her, smelling unsure and a little overwhelmed but also warm and kind, the same soothing scent that drew Derek in so many months ago.

Eloise sniffles.

Then, she coos, burrows her face into Patrice’s chest, and promptly falls asleep.

Beside him, Stiles lets out a relieved laugh and Derek is right there with him, fully aware that things won’t always be as easy as they seem right now but no longer afraid to figure them out, either.

Patrice stays with them for three weeks, bonding with Eloise, teaching Derek to sing her French lullabies, and instructing Stiles on how to make Cameroonian Ndolé and corn chaff.

His English has gotten a lot better since Derek met him first, but he’s still hesitant, his sentences grammatically correct more often than not but coming out slowly and hesitantly.

However, Stiles turns out to be an enthusiastic teacher, so by the time the last evening of Patrice’s visit comes around, Eloise’s bio-dad no longer looks quite as uncomfortable when he speaks, his accent still thick but his words flowing a little easier as they sit in the living room and make plans for his next visit.

Derek’s snuggled against Stiles as they watch Patrice kiss Eloise goodbye, nuzzling against her head and cheeks and whispering soft promises that he’ll come back and see her soon. 

When he straightens up and looks at Derek and Stiles, he gives them a wry smile and clears his throat.

“Before I leave...let’s talk about her hair.”

================

_3 Years Later_

  
  


“Mon Dieu! C’est vrai!” Patrice gasps as he walks into the living room and comes to an abrupt stop, staring at Derek with wide eyes as his mouth drops open.

“Pat!” Eloise exclaims excitedly, abandoning her crafts project and skipping across the living room in three jumps before she all but launches herself into Patrice’s waiting arms.

Her crafts project shakes his head and huffs, peering over his belly to see the damage and letting out a heartfelt sigh.

Stiles sets down his car keys and laughs as he heads over to the couch, inspecting Derek’s feet with a raised eyebrow.

“Very beautiful, my love,” he concludes, grinning when Derek groans and flops back into the cushions.

“Just tell me she didn’t get any nail polish on the couch?”

Stiles looks closer and shakes his head, his eyes glinting in amusement as he bends down to pick the nail polish bottle off the floor.

“Nope. Luckily, she’d already used most of it on your feet. Not your toenails, I’m afraid, but your feet are very colorful and pretty indeed.”

“Glad to hear it,” Derek says flatly, his lips cracking into a wry smile when Stiles snorts and holds out a hand to help him get up.

Across the room, Patrice has temporarily stopped staring to shower Eloise in love declarations and kisses, who responds with beaming smiles and happy giggles as she chatters at him in a wild mixture of English and French.

“Pat! Dis hello a mon little frère!” she demands, tugging at Patrice’s hand when he sets her down and pulling him in Derek’s direction.

“A little brother, ma petite louve?” Patrice asks kindly, flashing Derek a genuine smile as he pulls him into a gentle hug and kisses both of his cheeks in greeting.

“His name is going to be Jacques!” Eloise explains excitedly, hopping up and down beside him and beaming up at Derek expectantly.

“Papa! Can you show my Pat how my brother moves?”

“If he wants to?” Derek replies, winking at Patrice as he lowers himself back down onto the couch and rubs a hand over his 39 weeks pregnant stomach.

“Incroyable!” Pat mutters as he sits down next to Derek, letting out a little oof when Eloise instantly hops up on his lap, grabs his hand again, and presses it against Derek’s belly.

“Look! Jacques is playing lacrosse again! Just like Daddy did when he was a little boy!” she explains, and Stiles chuckles, sitting down on Derek’s other side and running a gentle hand over his bump as well, his lips stretching into a happy smile when their little boy kicks right against his hand.

“Jacques, hmm?” Patrice asks, raising a questioning eyebrow when Stiles chuckles and shakes his head.

“Remember how you sang her Frère Jacques on Facetime a couple of months ago? We literally found out the baby was a boy the day after, and our darling angel here has since insisted that his name must be Jacques, because all _brothers_ are named Jacques, apparently.”

Patrice chuckles and shakes his head fondly, followed by a surprised gasp when the baby kicks against his hand, too.

“Wow! That’s...that’s incredible. I knew it was true, but...seeing it like this? It’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” Stiles grins, pecking a kiss on Derek’s cheek and slinging an arm across his shoulders.

Derek smiles and rests his head against Stiles’ as they watch Eloise explain the miracle of Papa pregnancies to her Pat, including a couple of embarrassing tales that make Stiles bite his cheek to keep from laughing and that Patrice dutifully pretends he doesn’t find entirely hilarious as Derek pouts playfully.

“I’m really happy for you,” Patrice says a couple of hours later, when it’s just the two of them sitting in the living room as they wait for Stiles to finish telling Eloise her bedtime story.

“A treasured daughter and a precious son – how lucky you are,” he continues and Derek smiles, nodding in agreement.

It’s more than agreement, really.

He knows Stiles adores being a girl-dad and would have been absolutely over the moon if they were having another daughter, but Derek is honestly relieved they’re having a son to complete the family.

It’s silly, maybe, but a part of Derek feels like it’ll be easier for Eloise this way, once she gets old enough to truly understand that she and the baby don’t share the same bio-daddy.

He doesn’t want her to ever question whether or not she’s her beloved daddy’s little girl, and even though he knows that Stiles would have bent over backwards to prevent that from happening, Derek is still relieved they won’t have to worry about it now.

Smiling, he turns back to Patrice, giving him a conspiratorial little wink.

“Ellie was a little disappointed at first, to be honest. Luckily, Laura and Cora stepped in and told her all kinds of horror stories of how they used to torment me when I was little. She has been firmly of the opinion that brothers are far preferable since.”

“Uh oh. What will you do if the next one is another gorgeous little girl?”

“ _Next one_? Stiles wishes!” Derek laughs, shaking his head as he runs his hands over the bump.

“No, no. Two is good for me,” he decides, raising his eyebrows at Patrice when he winks at Derek with an expression that clearly conveys that he’s not believing Derek’s protestations for even a second.

“Thank you, by the way. I know I’ve said it before, but Stiles and I really appreciate that you took time off to come be with us and Eloise during this time. I hope she won’t be too jealous when the baby comes, but having you here to make sure she doesn’t feel left out is really going to help.”

Patrice smiles.

“Of course. Anything for ma petite louve.”

================

Stiles and Patrice team up to make Eloise feel beyond cherished and special as they count down her final days of being an only-child.

There are princess tea-parties, adventures in the forest, and an unholy amount of craft projects that leave her with glitter everywhere and cause Stiles gray hairs when he tries to get her clean in the evenings.

She also demands a princess hairstyle to greet her baby-brother properly and manages to sit perfectly still until Patrice is done braiding her hair into a cornrowed bun with colourful strands of wool that Eloise swears make her look like a mermaid. 

Derek participates as much as he can and takes lots of naps in between, trying to rest up for the upcoming birth and feeling comforted by the fact that his daughter is safe and happy with the two men who love her most.

Well.

Three men, really, because Uncle Peter ends up joining them on more than one outing and Eloise is absolutely thrilled, telling Derek all about their adventures when she snuggles up to him at night, her voice heavy with sleep after her exciting day and her little fingers subconsciously tapping out the rhythm of her baby-brother’s heartbeat against Derek’s swollen belly.

Peter is also there to help out when Derek goes into labor six days after Patrice’s arrival, and Derek can see how relieved Stiles is, too, both of them appreciating that they can focus on their son while knowing their little girl is well taken care of.

Their baby-boy takes his sweet time, however, and when he still hasn’t made his grand entrance by the time Eloise’s bedtime rolls around, Derek picks up on a heated debate that’s unfolding right behind the closed door of his birthing den.

“But Uncle Peepee! I can help!”

Derek’s in a hell of a lot of pain, honestly, but nothing will ever dampen his amusement over his daughter’s chosen term of endearment for her beloved great-uncle, not even the fact that he’s currently gasping through one of the worst contractions, yet.

“I know you can, baby, but your Papa needs to concentrate right now.”

“But Uncle Peepee! I can help consecrate, too!”

“I’m sure you can _consecrate_ all kinds of things,” Peter laughs, and Derek can vividly imagine Eloise crossing her arms over her chest and huffing when he hears her little displeased growl.

“Peter. You guys can come in for a bit,” he says loudly, giving Stiles a reassuring smile when his mate gives him a worried frown.

A moment later, Eloise marches into the birthing room with her Pat and her Uncle Peepee in tow, wearing a _My Little Pony_ bathing suit and looking absolutely determined.

“Sweet Pea, why are you in a bathing suit?” Stiles asks faintly, and Eloise gives her daddy an exasperated look that’s pretty much an exact replica of the Sheriff’s best _Jesus, Stiles!_ expression.

“My brother’s going to come out of the kiddie pool, remember? That’s why it’s called kiddie pool, Daddy!”

“Ah yes, of course,” Stiles agrees immediately, placing a light kiss on Derek’s shoulder as he continues kneading his tense back muscles.

Derek’s not quite ready to go into the pool, yet, so he’s sitting on a birthing ball instead, rolling his hips and taking deep, even breaths as he enjoys the momentary reprieve from the contractions.

“Come here,” he tells Eloise, flashing Patrice a grateful smile when he lifts her up and places her on Derek’s knees.

Eloise instantly throws her arms around Derek’s belly as best she can and smushes her cheek against his skin to listen, huffing disappointedly when she frowns up at Derek. 

“Papa, why is my brother still in your tummy?”

She glares at his swollen stomach, giving it a gentle pat.

“Come on, baby! My Pat promised me an _amazing_ bedtime story! If you hurry, you can listen, too!”

She looks up at Pat for confirmation, nodding in satisfaction when Patrice smiles and says, “Of course your brother can listen, ma petite louve.”

“See! You should hurry!” Eloise tells Derek’s belly and Derek chuckles, though his laugh tapers off part-way when the next contraction begins.

He bites down on his lip, trying not to groan so he won’t scare Eloise.

His daughter isn’t fooled for even one second.

“You have to scream, Papa. It’s going to make my brother come out faster!” she declares with conviction, her tiny hands rubbing little circles into his stomach just like Stiles does when she can’t fall asleep. 

Derek groans and lets his head fall back against Stiles’ shoulder, his gasps and moans getting louder as the contraction crests, worse than anything he's felt so far and also accompanied by a pressing urge he remembers all too well. 

“Good job, Papa!” Eloise praises earnestly when he's caught his breath again, her eyes flashing excitedly as she graciously ignores the amused chuckles of the adults in the room.

“Want me to take her?” Peter asks, appearing at his side with a wet washcloth and gently wiping the sweat off of Derek’s face and the back of his neck as he starts breathing heavily again.

“Please,” Derek gasps, because Eloise’s brother has obviously taken her little pep talk to heart and seems to be finally getting ready to make his grand appearance.

It takes another half hour and three horrifyingly painful pushes, but the pain is forgotten the moment a beaming Stiles places their perfect little boy in his arms.

He’s a little smaller than Eloise was but every bit the feisty werewolf she is, his screams strong and healthy and his grip on Derek’s finger tight and grounding.

An hour later, Derek is resting comfortably in his and Stiles’ bedroom, gently cradling his newborn son and marveling at chubby cheeks, little moles, soft brown tufts of hair, and wide, alert eyes that he just knows are going to be just as beautiful as his daddy’s.

He’s Stiles’ little mini-me, cute as a button and absolutely perfect, and Derek didn’t think it was possible to love more than one person just as fiercely as he does his little Eloise, but Leo Jonathan has already proven him wrong a thousand times over in his preciously short time on this earth.

There’s a knock on the door and Derek is not surprised to see Eloise poking in her head, her hand clutching Patrice’s, eyes wide with hesitant awe, and her nose twitching adorably as she catches her baby-brother’s scent for the first time.

“Papa? Daddy? Is that my little brother?”

“Come here,” Stiles says gently, holding up his arms and taking Eloise when Patrice lifts her onto the bed.

Derek waits until Eloise has gotten settled on Stiles’ lap, whispering “Gentle,” as he places Leo in his big sister’s waiting arms.

Stiles immediately wraps his arm around them both to support the baby’s weight and Eloise lets out a soft sound of surprise, staring down at the baby in pure wonder.

“What do you think, Sweet Pea?” Stiles asks softly, his lips stretching into a smile when Eloise bends down to nuzzle Leo’s forehead, scent marking him and telling them she loves him without words.

There’s a click and Derek throws a grateful smile at Patrice, who sets down his camera and takes a step closer.

“Congratulations, you guys. He’s beautiful,” Patrice says, his eyebrows rising in surprise when Stiles asks if he wants to hold him, too.

When Leo is cradled in Patrice’s arms, Stiles gets up with Eloise and stands beside him, gently kissing his daughter’s forehead as she keeps staring at her little brother in awe.

Even though he’s exhausted, Derek can’t stop watching his perfect, unconventional little family unit get acquainted with their new addition, his heart bursting with gratitude at the sight of his perfect children and the two amazing men that gave them to him.

Of course, life with two children is a bit more chaotic than it was before, but in between Stiles’ unwavering support, his family always having his back, and Eloise devoting herself to her big sister duties like the world’s most adorable little girl on a mission, Derek soon realizes that there’s nothing they can’t face as long as they’re together.

Life is good.

Life is so good, in fact, that when Stiles brings up the possibility of a third baby one and a half years later, Derek doesn’t even hesitate one second to say yes.

Thirty-nine weeks and two days later, Lennox Benjamin comes out the spitting image of Derek and life isn’t so much good as it is absolutely perfect.

================

_5 Years Later_

“Ooops,” Stiles says on a rather surprising and eventful morning in late April, though he can’t quite stop grinning long enough to actually pull off looking contrite when a wide-eyed Derek brandishes the positive pregnancy test at him in absolute disbelief.

He does, however, call the clinic to make a vasectomy appointment after Deaton _casually_ mentions that some breeder wolves have been known to be able to give birth all the way into their sixties and seventies.

Derek’s surprise pregnancy goes by in the blink of an eye and when he goes into labor in the early afternoon of December 22nd, his mate and his ten-year old daughter do not leave his side for even one second.

His seven-year-old and five-year-old sons also stick around for a while, but after the initial excitement of his water breaking has worn off, Leo and Lennox quickly get bored with all the waiting and decide to go watch cartoons with Uncle Peter instead.

His fourth baby ends up being his fastest, however, and Derek welcomes his delivery-surprise just a short four hours after his labor began.

Little Everlee Marie reveals herself to be an absolute surprise, indeed, not only because she’s a girl but also because she turns out to be their first human baby in the family.

About two hours after his second daughter’s birth, Derek’s come down from his overprotective hormonal high just enough to chance a glance at Eloise, who is sitting at the edge of their bed and cradling her little sister with a truly reverent expression.

“What do you think?” he asks gently and Eloise smiles, stroking a finger down the baby’s cheek and flashing her eyes proudly.

“She looks like you, Papa! No wait! She looks like Daddy! Actually, she looks like both of you!” Eloise decides, her grin turning into a wistful smile when she turns to look at Stiles.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Sweet Pea?” Stiles asks softly, lifting his head from Derek’s shoulder and throwing their oldest an affectionate smile.

“You...you know I’d be okay with it? Right? I understand.”

“Huh?” Stiles frowns, shaking his head in confusion and sitting up straight.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her name,” Eloise says, avoiding their gaze as she looks back down at her little sister.

“I know you said you wanted to name her Everlee Marie if she’s a girl, but I really think...I mean...you should name her Everlee Claudia instead. I know you always say I’m named after your mom because you promised you’d name your first daughter after grandma, but now that Everlee is here, I just thought that...it’s okay with me, I swear! She should be Everlee Claudia. I won’t be upset.”

Derek’s heart seizes.

At ten, Eloise is, of course, aware, that she and her brothers do not share the same biological daddy.

When Derek and Stiles drive her to the airport and put her on a plane without her brothers to spend six weeks of her summer vacation in France, Eloise knows it’s not because her brothers are not invited but because they’re still a little too young.

She knows her Pat never planned to have kids but that he loves her deeply and wouldn’t give her up for the world, and she knows that her beloved Daddy isn’t her Daddy because he felt he had to but because he chose to.

She is also aware that she looks a little different than the rest of her family, and Derek knows she’s started to notice the looks they get sometimes.

When she was little, Eloise thought it was because she had two daddies while most of the fairy tale princesses had a mommy.

These days, she’s starting to see the full picture though, and Derek knows there are a number of painful questions still ahead of them.

He can’t protect her from most – or any – of these questions, but there’s one thing he never wants her to question for even a second.

Beside him, Stiles clearly shares the sentiment, looking gut-punched as his eyes widen in shock.

Then, Stiles squares his shoulders and shakes his head, crawling over to the edge of the bed and gently tugging at Eloise’s chin to get her to look at him.

“Eloise. My sweet, wonderful Eloise. I already gave my mother’s name to my first-born daughter, remember? She was born ten years ago and she’s the kindest, smartest, most amazing little girl who makes me proud to be her daddy every single day of my life.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, smiling down at her when she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Daddy!”

Eloise’s voice is shaky, but her grip on her baby-sister is gentle and secure when she leans forward to burrow her face into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles smiles, wrapping his arms around her and gently rubbing her back.

“I love you, Eloise Claudia. You’re always going to be my perfect first-born little girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> P.S. "ma petite louve" means "my little she-wolf" in French :).

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
